


An Avalanche

by LadyHallen



Series: An Avalanche and it's snowy friends [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Genderbend, Various OC Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 132,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: Heather wants to hide in the bottom of the ocean. Hermione wants to change the world. Draco wants to be seen as himself and not his father. And Luna? Well...she's Luna. An idea starts a chain of events and none of them regret it.





	1. Ideas that just happened

It started off as an idea but they were all getting desperate, especially after Draco nearly killed himself experimenting on potions. Luna had arrived and brought supplies, asking if it was acceptable as a token of her acceptance, and if she could please stay?

But let's go back to the reason why everyone was desperate.

After the war was over, everyone clamored for change and everyone wanted Heather to lead it. Heather was cranky, tried and just wanted to go to the bottom of the ocean to rest and hide for the rest of eternity.

Hermione felt nearly the same way but she wanted to teach and change people, especially the orphans.

"This wouldn't happen if people only have proper care for children," she confided to Heather one night. "I probably won't be much use in taking care of children, but I can change adoption laws and orphanage adoption requirements."

But Hermione couldn't change that in wizarding Britain. She was only a muggleborn. So long as they settled in the British Isles, she was a second class citizen in the Wizarding world. So she settled in Grimmauld place with Heather and researched laws – seething all the while about injustice.

Draco ended up with them by sheer accident and Potter luck. Heather was shopping, in disguise of course, when she came across Draco looking harried. He was exiting the apothecary and the people looked like they wanted to stone him. Something stirred in Heather and reminded her that no matter everything else that happened between them, Draco was still a distant cousin and didn't deserve to be treated that way.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm and he nearly flinched. He controlled himself and asked with dignity, "Yes, may I help you?"

Heather smiled to reassure him. "Malfoy, don't act all stiff on me," she soothed.

"I beg your pardon?" he said.

Heather allowed her glamor to falter for a second, enough for him to see her eyes and her scar.

His eyes went round. "Potter," he muttered. "What on earth are you up to?"

She grinned and locked an arm around his waist. She ignored his indignant posturing. "Come with me," she said, looking like she was his girlfriend. "By the way, did you manage what you wanted or did the people chase you out?" It was a teasing tone that managed to put him at ease. She was a far cry from the young girl he kept teasing and it made him unconsciously relax.

Draco managed a smile. "They didn't chase me out. It was a tactical retreat. And yes, I got what I wanted," he said.

She took him to Grimmauld place and convinced Hermione. But, perhaps that wasn't proper convincing but she just pushed Draco in the Library and Hermione, buried under mounds of books, didn't even notice him. He gave her a look of alarm when she gestured for him to enter and it turned into outright panic when she closed the door firmly. It wasn't locked, but either way, Draco was too proud to hurry out.

Draco just sat across her and occupied himself with a potions journal. When she finally surfaced and saw him, she blinked several times and said, "Oh. Did Heather bring you here?"

He nodded guardedly. Hermione just hummed and returned the books with a flick of her hand. She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the kitchen.

Kreacher was overjoyed to have another Black to serve and went on a cleaning spree. It only took a couple of days and Draco lost his pinched and wary look and started to smile more.

But weeks coped up in an old house could drive anyone crazy and that's when things started to get desperate. They didn't want to go out to face the world. Grimmauld place had become, for them, the bottom of the ocean.

And that was when Luna came.

Her arrival wasn't all that shocking. However, what shocked the occupants of Grimmauld place was the fact that she could see the door at all.

"Luna?!" Heather exclaimed.

She stood there, dirty blond hair long and tangled, silvery gray eyes protuberant and unseeing. "The nargles led me to you," then her eyes focused with dizzying intensity on Heather. "My father has been taken over by the wrackspurts. I don't think I can stay with him anymore."

An epiphany dawned on Heather. Luna's father had sold them to Death Eaters and it seemed that Luna could not forgive him that fact. Heather smiled in understanding and commiseration.

It took another week and then Hermione slammed a book on the kitchen table in annoyance.

"Damn it, Granger," Draco cursed. He had almost spilled his soup since one of his hands was in a sling due to a recent potions accident.

"Listen up," Hermione said. "I found this locked in a vault under the Black library."

Heather felt her eyebrow climb up, but she said nothing, because Hermione was clearly on a roll.

"It's a book on dimensions travel, specifically on how the Veil of Death was created."

Luna's eyes focused on Hermione. "There are no hyvolspaths in the Veil of Death, Hermione."

Draco and Hermione turned to look at Heather since she seemed to be the only one who understood Luna's cryptic statements that sounded vaguely like prophecy.

Heather touched Luna's hand and smiled. "She means wizards. If you want to move there, there wont be any of our kind." The understanding worked if she was looking into Luna's eyes and it sometimes worked if she was touching Luna. It frustrated Hermione since neither of them could explain it to her.

Draco grinned. "No wizards." He looked happy at the prospect. Well, he would be, seeing as he was a pseudo-criminal among wizards.

Heather laughed at him. "You don't have to be so happy about it," then she turned to Hermione. "What do we do to help? And what materials do you need?"

Hermione's lips pursed in a wonderful imitation of McGonagall. "Well, that's just it. It's frigging hard." She grinned at their surprise when she cursed. "Listen to this. Corpse of evil, Heart of Bitterness, Bones of Loyalty and Blood of Rebirth."

Draco snorted. "Merlin. It's like its saying, ' _This is extremely hard. Don't try it_ '"

Heather ignored him. "I know someone who would have a corpse of evil."

Luna nodded. "Yes. He was evil. The moment he rent his soul, the very essence of magic deemed him evil."

"But the problem would be getting it, seeing as the Unspeakables have it under lock and key," she added.

Hermione spluttered. "Wait. Rent his soul. You're talking about Voldemort."

Draco flinched and a hand went to his forearm. "Don't say his name, it hurts." All three girls looked at him and he nodded earnestly. "It does. He made it so we would fear to say it."

"Ingenious," Hermione muttered. "Fear of the name indeed. But how do we get his corpse?"

Luna patted her hand. "The Dragon and I will take care of it," she muttered.

He looked surprised. "Me? What for?"

"You have his mark. You can break the wards on it." Luna said. It was the clearest they had ever heard her speak. Then her eyes unfocused again. "We must hurry. A lynch is looking for us."

Heather didn't need to touch Luna this time. She was too shocked and angry to notice this though. "Kingsley! The minister is looking for us?"

Everybody exploded into action. Hermione volunteered to grab supplies and no one argued with her seeing as she was the best with glamor spells. Heather went to Gringotts and Luna dragged Draco to the ministry to grab the Corpse of Evil.

On the way back from Gringotts, inspiration struck Heather like a bolt of lightning.

"Gosh," she gasped. "But I have to talk to the others to be sure." Then she paused. "But if we do this, isn't it desecration?"

She dithered on that the whole way home.

* * *

The security on Voldemort's body was apparently close to nil.

"I mean, who would want to steal the Dark Lords body?" Hermione mused.

Heather fidgeted and dithered until Luna poked her. She yelped and frowned whilst rubbing the spot. "Guys, I might know the second ingredient but…I don't want to use his heart somehow."

Hermione sighed irritably. "Heather, if you don't say it, I'll sic Draco on you."

"Oi!"the aforementioned man exclaimed.

Both of them ignored him.

"Don't argue, they're just using you as fish bait," Luna told him in her soft and dreamy voice.

Heather was covering her face with her hands. "It's Snape. The Heart of Bitterness. I know most of his life story so I'm sure."

Draco nearly growled. "No. We're not using my godfathers heart. Next."

Heather gave Hermione the "I told you so" look. "Well, I know someone else, but I think she's still alive."

"Who?"

"Aunt Petunia."

* * *

Heather sat next to Luna, feeling small and insignificant. Luna hummed serenely while Hermione and Draco yelled at each other at the top of their lungs. Well, Hermione shrieked and Draco growled and hissed alternately.

"Don't worry, there's a third one," Luna said softly. She somehow said this when both combatants were taking a breath so everyone heard her, no matter how softly it was said. Idly, Heather wondered how she did that. Another Pureblood thing?

"What?" they both rounded on her.

Heather, very near the line of fire, tried not to flinch.

"Who?" Hermione demanded.

"The beetle, of course. Her soul is black with bitterness," she answered.

For once, Hermione and Heather understood perfectly. "Oh! Rita Skeeter!" they chorused, grinning at each other.

"What?" Draco bleated again.

* * *

Rita Skeeter's burial had been lost among the multitude of funerals that Heather attended but once Draco and Hermione started to rack their brains on where she was buried, Heather remembered the day of the burial vividly.

"It was a Saturday," she piped up, interrupting their brainstorming. "And it was raining."

Hermione, who was more used to Heather's methods than Draco, stomped on his foot to prevent him from saying anything snide.

"Yes, go on Feather," she encouraged.

"There were poplar trees and an old witch on a wheel-chair, crying her heart out. There were stone angels and twelve roses in Hermione's hair."

Upon hearing that, Hermione took on a  _Eureka!_  pose. "Of course! On that day, there were twelve funerals. She was buried with the Abbots!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. She can remember the kind and number of flowers but she forgets the name of the cemetery. No wonder you get along with Loo – Ouch! – Lovegood."

* * *

The Bones of Loyalty, was of course, the one that stumped Heather. The only one she knew was Sirius and he had no corpse to steal bones from. And she wasn't sufficiently sure if being a werewolf would affect the rituals.

Draco then broke in that he had an idea for who it would be, but it would need their trust on his judgment.

"Let it out," Hermione demanded.

"Vincent Crabbe," he said quietly.

The urge to laugh was suddenly quashed with the vivid memory of how Crabbe died. But Hermione had a questioning look pasted on her face. So Draco elaborated. "You might think they were dumb apes assigned by my father but they often supported me in everything I did and didn't hesitate to call me a selfish brat when I needed to hear it and gave me a good thumping when I didn't listen."

Hermione was skeptical but didn't complain or say her doubts were Draco could hear it.

The blood of rebirth had all of them stumped. Luna was no help since she saw a pack of tarot cards in the Library. Hermione started some of the preparations she could do with just the three ingredients. When they finally were on the verge of trashing the idea, Luna surfaced from her cards and asked what all the arguments was about, seeing as the Blood of Rebirth was Heather.

There was a sudden silence at the announcement and then the demands started.

"What do you mean rebirth? Heather, what aren't you telling us?" Hermione demanded.

* * *

Hermione ignored Heather for as long as was possible, but occasionally casted her worried looks. Draco, who knew about keeping secrets, just smiled and kept her company, for once not brewing potions, to talk to her.

Heather, for her part, was packing the books under the watchful eye of Kreacher. He had heard their plans of dimension travel and ambushed Heather. Kreacher had known she was the softest and least logical when face with an ambush and so secured his own ticket to the dimension travel that way.

Part of his demands was not to leave the books. Heather agreed since it was logical. Heather did not agree on brining Walbruga Black. Kreacher only acquiesced when Heather pointed out that she may not survive the transfer.

"What are you bringing, Draco?" she asked the potioneer.

Draco looked up from his notes. "Potion ingredients, I suppose. I'm resigning myself to the fact that there might not be any of the more specialized ingredients. But there might be new ones too, so I'll need my potions journals."

Heather giggled. She looked up from the books, while Kreacher tittered at the interruption. "Draco, you might as well look up the composition of ink and paper while you're at it. You might run out of it."

An alarmed look came over his face and he ran off, leaving her alone for the first time in a couple of days. Heather looked to Luna, who was shuffling her cards.

"Is this how you feel every time?" she asked Luna.

Luna just laid out her next deck, facing the Joker towards Heather.

* * *

It wasn't an arch. It didn't have a veil. It was simply a doorway, square and forbidding. A tattered cloth hung near the top. It made the entire thing feel like a junior Veil of Death.

It was also humming.

"Hermione?" Heather muttered. The,  _are you sure?_  was unsaid.

Draco was in apparent agreement. He edged away from it warily. Luna had no such qualms. She nodded at Hermione and jumped in immediately. Everybody gave a yelp.

"Luna!" Heather gasped. She followed quickly and a tugging at the back of her skirt told her that Kreacher was also with her. Vaguely, she heard Draco and Hermione behind her.

The inside of the veil was different than what she expected. It wasn't specifically nothingness since she could feel something occasionally brush her. It wasn't like walking, neither was it like falling. If Heather had to describe it, she would call it  _drifting_ , but there was something pulling her along, as well as the vague idea that she  _had_  to go at a certain direction.

There was also voices and then singing. Instinctively, she drifted faster. It sounded like Luna, which was just strange and it also sounded like Fawkes, which was comforting in the vaguely shifting darkness. To actually be able to hear something was a blessing, after all.

And then Heather stopped drifting and suddenly, she was falling. She expected pain, but instead, there were dew drops and grass.

Heather opened her eyes and it was to an extremely blue sky.


	2. Settling in

It was instinct that first ruled Heather when she first woke and being honed by years in the war, it was to find what was hostile and what wasn't.

She cataloged her surroundings and her friends and slowly went to her feet. It helped her state of mind that she wasn't shaky, or trembling but merely tired. By the number of bodies around her, all of them had survived the journey.

It was a forest, that much was clear. The air was clearer, signaling a significant distance from civilization.

"Guys!" she hissed. "Guys!"

The girls didn't stir. Draco only rolled over. The one who answered was…was that Kreacher?!

"Kreacher!" she gasped. "Kreacher!"

The poor house elf didn't even remotely like a house elf. He had grown a good and healthy amount of hair. His wrinkles had smoothed out. In fact, Kreacher did not look like a Kreacher. At all. He looked de-aged. Creepier still were his eyes, They seemed smarter somehow.

"Miss Heather," Keracher started and then he squeaked when he heard his voice. It had gone smoother and less croaky. With wide eyes, he pointed to Heather's hair.

A quick scramble to a nearby river explained why. The uncontrollable black hair had smoothed and lengthened. Streaks of blue, indigo and purple had shot into it. And her skin had turned a proper shade of fair, not the color of one who had hidden for a long time in an old house.

"Buggering figs!" she muttered.

She hurried to wake the others. They all had changes. The most obvious were Draco's eyes. The silver had a shimmering and obvious glitter to it. You couldn't help but notice and look at it. Hermione's hair had grown longer and the curl more manageable. Luna, as far as they could see, had no changes at all.

"This is all swell," Draco drawled. "There goes the plan of staying discreet."

Hermione scowled, in a foul mood since she hadn't known the change would occur.

"We should find shelter," she said.

"Summoning stones?" Luna said.

Heather nodded. "But is it wise to make it out of stone? What if it is too hot?"

Draco snorted. He looked around incredulously as though to emphasize the point. "Potter, we're in a forest. It would be hard pressed to make itself hot."

Hermione brandished her wand and gave a tentative  _accio_. A small stone came flying to her hand.

"That's gonna be useful," Draco laughed.

Hermione rounded on him. "Shut up, Malfoy! You ought to try it if you're so clever! Go on!"

It turned into an impromptu competition between the both of them. Heather rolled her eyes and went to find food.

* * *

 _ **The House**_ , as it was named for simple lack of imagination, was finished within a day. The competition between Hermione and Draco proved useful in that aspect.

Kreacher was the one who assembled everything. When he saw enough stones were polished, he waved his hands like a conductor for an orchestra and everything turned to a beautiful little stone cottage. That stopped the rivalry quickly enough. Everybody started thinking on what needed to be doing.

"Bookshelves," Hermione said. "A lot of it."

Draco nodded in agreement. "Maybe a potions lab."

Heather looked skyward. "Merlin, the both of you! It needs bedrooms! A kitchen! And maybe a living room!"

Kreacher looked at the cottage and raised an eyebrow.

Hermione and Draco went back to summoning boulders.

* * *

The disappearance of Luna in the middle of the finishing touched had Hermione in a tizzy. Heather and Draco ignored her, knowing that Luna could take care of herself. In the Battle of the Ministry, Luna was one of the few of her friends who came out of it not needing to go to the Hospital Wing. Another memory was of Luna sitting in the middle of a ring of unconscious Death Eaters.

They were in the middle of setting the ward stones when Luna came back with a skip in her step and a snowy eagle-owl on her shoulder, blinking golden eyes.

"Hey Luna," Heather said before Hermione could start shrieking her displeasure. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Hafny," Luna said, petting the owl. "Her relatives all live in the forest."

Before the confusion could settle in, a large golden eagle landed in front of Luna. Draco gave a yelp and pushed Heather behind him. Hermione, a couple of feet away, apparated in front of Luna.

"Wha - ?" Hermione started.

Luna clucked. "Don't be so dramatic. He's the king of the eagles. He's just making sure you aren't going to poach on their nest."

Heather unfroze behind Draco and stepped in front of the golden eagle. She looked in its massive eye and bowed, presenting her vulnerable neck. She heard Draco make a strangled whimper and Hermione gasp. Then the eagle nosed her hair and she straightened.

"We won't touch your eggs, your highness. And we can protect this forest from unfriendly humans," she said.

The eagle gave a warble and a series of clicks. Luna translated, "It would be a great boon." He then left as abruptly as he had arrived.

Heather found herself hugged and squeezed simultaneously by Draco and Hermione.

"You arse!" Hermione said. She was so frazzled that all curse words had flown out the window. "My poor heart!"

"Damn it, Potter," Draco was also saying at the same time. "And here I thought the prophet was lying when they said you were a nutter."

"Guys," Heather chided. "I trust Luna. And she wasn't alarmed, so…"

It was obvious that Hermione nearly bit her tongue to keep her comments to herself. Draco was in the opposite frame of mind. His shoulders were shaking so much in trying to repress his laughter. Tears had leaked out of his extraordinary eyes.

"Only you, Potter. Only you," Draco said breathlessly.

Despite all distractions, they finished  _ **The House**_. Heather dragged her bed to the living room and Hermione followed. Luna dragged both Draco and her bed and all four of them cuddled in front of their small hearth.

"Sooo," Hermione started. "Is the fact that we are technically free sunk in yet?"

Silence, then…

"I think I'm still in shock," Draco said. "I mean, I know I don't want to live in a bloody forest forever. Loo – Ouch Potter! – Lovegood probably might. I'm a social person.:

Heather and Luna exchanged amused glances. "Oh Draco," Heather said. "I know that. I just think…is that…what I mean is…"

"Heather!" Hermione interrupted.

"I just think that this should be like a place where the world won't bother us," she finished in a stutter. "A place where we can go to if it becomes too much."

Another silence.

"Isn't that the idea, though?" Hermione asked. "A place that's just ours. We can bring others if we make another house but this place is…"

"Sanctuary," Luna supplied.

* * *

The idea had merit. But several factors made them tentative on exploring the world outside their forest. There was the lack of information for one.

"It would be nice if someone was an animagus," Hermione pouted. "But I don't think we have the books for that."

"We could ask the animals, right Luna?" Heather said.

Luna looked up from braiding horse hair she had found in the forest. "Yeah. I think. But Hafny likes to talk to Heather. She says that you smell like warm nests."

Draco snorted in laughter at the hastily concealed look of affront on Heathers face.

"Alright. I'll go talk to Hafny. You ought to translate for me though."

Luna gave Heather one of her patented "confused" looks that made everybody feel slightly stupid. "What do you mean, feather? Talk to her as you would to Hedwig."

The reminder of the faithful snowy owl that had fallen in war trying to save her from a killing curse made Heather freeze. Hedwig was her first friend and always seemed to be smarter than any other owl. To have her compared to another owl so callously made anger burn in her fiercely.

"Luna," Heather said in a tightly controlled voice. "Please don't mention Hedwig."

Luna sighed at Heather. "I am honoring your fallen companion, not replacing her. Your anger is making you irrational."

Heather ignored her and stepped out of their cozy house, taking deep breaths as she did so. She told herself that it wasn't Luna's fault. Her anger was apparently irrational and didn't care.

Another deep breath. It didn't bloody help that Hafny was snowy white too.

Remembering how she had called Hedwig, Heather gave two sharp whistles. A fluffy white owl flew in front of her. In reflex, her arm shot out as a perch.

"Hoot?" Hafny said, wings settling.

It felt like a hello. This was how she used to talk to Hedwig – just feelings and impressions. Hermione had said that it was the first part of a familiar bond. Hedwig had died before they could finalize it.

Hafny…was a potential familiar. But Heather didn't know did her heart could take another one so soon.

"Hello. Luna said your name is Hafny?" she said softly. "Can you tell me about this world?"

There was the impression of castles and meadows, of high mountains and dark forests that was tended by shining beings who were always kind. There were trees that moved and tall people that sang to the trees. There was also the furry short men and the taller men that lived in the castles hewn of stone.

And then, looking accidentally into Hafny's golden eyes, she could see in her mind the running horses and the people mounted astride it, holding bows and arrows, hunting her.

She jolted out of Hafny's mind with a jerk. The shock of being hunted had broken the connection. She had only dreamed about being hunted once but she was flying with a broom and she didn't have wings. Either way, it was almost the same dream.

"Chirp!" Hafny cried out. It was annoyance and concern rolled into one sound.

"I'm sorry," Heather panted. "You surprised me. What else is left?"

Hafny nibbled on her fingers before starting again.

This time, there was only the dark and dangerous beasts, the evil mutated orcs and the neglected men of the South.

"Oh," she muttered. "That explains plenty."

Heather strode back to the house with Hafny on her arm.

"Draco," she said, startling the blond man. "Can you teach me how to wield a sword?"

* * *

The information Hafny shared with the others had Hermione in a happy state, but no one could be quite sure since the brunette was frazzled and muttering formulae.

Luna had just simply nodded and asked if she could join the sword lessons.

It was Hafny that suggested contact stones. Well, maybe not the very idea exactly. But the feeling that Hafny emitted was something along the lines of "Nestling leaving, no communication?" Which, of course led to the brainstorming that occurred.

"It must be something mobile," Hermione said. "But tangible enough for runes."

"Pretty," Luna interjected. "But light."

Draco was horrified. "I am not wearing anything ugly. Lovegood, you actually make sense."

Luna beamed at him.

Heather sighed, feeling very put upon. "Guys, if it is too pretty, then thieves might get interested. It has to be something found everywhere."

They eventually settled on a badly burnished copper that didn't shine but passed Draco's standards of beauty. Luna helped by just  _finding_  the books that Hermione would need. Since they hadn't fully unpacked all the books from the Black library yet, it was quite a feat. Heather wondered how she did it.

They usually had "pile-ups" as Hermione called it. They gathered in front of the fire and reminisced of the past. It was usually a quiet affair but once or twice, someone opened a topic and in-depth discussions would happen.

In one of their more significant pile-ups, Heather restarted the topic of leaving and exploring.

"I entered Hafny's mind by accident," she said. "And I saw a darkness that made me angry. I want to banish it."

Hermione looked shocked. "Feather! I thought you were done with that?"

It was Luna that answered, giving Hermione a disapproving look. "That isn't a very nice thing to say. Feather always wants to help, she just can't stand the notoriety that comes with it. And she especially hates cages."

Heather tried not to squirm since Luna had hit the nail on the head. She had forgotten how blunt Luna could be when doling out the truth.

Hermione flushed. "Sorry, feather. Go on."

She cleared her throat. "These slimy creatures are attacking villages. I want to help. It will probably be a thankless job, but it will be worth it." Then she looked at Hermione hesitantly. "I'll still help you with your plan to help the children…if you want me to…?"

Hermione gave a squeal of pleasure. "Yes, yes!"

Luna piped up, "And I'll stay here, of course."

All of them, and yes, even Draco, looked shocked. "Luna," someone said.

"Someone has to stay here," she continued firmly. "And my gift of truth-telling isn't welcomed by everyone. Not all people have hearts as open as yours."

Surprisingly, it was Draco that spoke. "Lovegood! Stop that nonsense. You can't stay here, and Potter can't go adventuring forever. Both of you will have rotations."

And then, as though he expected  _her_  to argue, Draco arched an eyebrow at Heather. She just grinned at him proudly.

"Then," Luna said in a small voice. "Maybe I can wander the forests of this world and meet all kinds of creatures."

Nobody mentioned the unshed tears that shone in Luna's eyes and if they huddled closer together, no one felt the need to say anything about that either.

* * *

When the coins were finished, Draco was the first to leave. It was expected. He was the most restless and the most social among all of them. Draco  _thrived_  being among people, even if he couldn't stand most of them since the war. Luna asked one of the eagles and they agreed to carry him to the nearest village.

The girls watched him walk away with solemn eyes, thinking different thoughts but all wondering if they would ever see him again.

When Hermione eventually left and followed Draco, Heather commandeered the books that she had in her room and made a personal communications stone between her and Luna. It was a beautiful blue stone that they braided into a thick and fibrous grass that was sturdy and pretty enough when dry.

"We can always apparate," Heather told Luna. "But this way, we can organize shifts."

Luna nodded. "And this way, you can teach me the language that you encounter," she said. This was told softly, hiding different words and a million meanings. Heather blessed whatever bit of her brain that seemed always able to understand Luna's words, spoken or otherwise. Luna was wondering if any of the others would ever return.

What a sad thought. And, if Heather was honest with herself, she wondered that too.

"I'll be back," she said to Luna and it sounded like a promise.

Luna managed a nod, jerky and slightly nervous but it was a shot at acting normal.

It was the only then that Heather set off, with Luna a slight figure watching her go.


	3. Change

It says something when you don't feel fear when there's a really sharp sword going at you, Heather thought as she ducked and parried.

It had been nearly six months since she had left the Sanctuary and careful questioning had led her to the Dúnedain. How that happened was a blur of horseback riding and spying at people while nursing a bitter tankard of ale. One event did stand out clearly and that was being chased by a pack of wolves. She had managed to down three of its members and then they came and helped her. In the middle of the skirmish (ones that involved proper armies and countries were called battles; apparently), her cowl had fallen and revealed she was a girl. The three men had gaped for a minute before interrogating her.

"What were you doing?" they had asked.

"Avenging my family," she answered, a mulish tilt to her chin. They all exchanged glances.

"Avenging!" the youngest of the three of them muttered. "You would have likely joined them before the day was over."

Heather knew she was making stories in her mind to stay in character, and she allowed the story to become her. The righteous female anger swept through her. She was young enough – and short enough – to act out the adolescent angst. Besides, these men felt like old souls.

"I know," she cried out, real tears stinging her cheeks. "I'm likely to get myself killed, but who would teach a girl? I'm doing the best I can!"

The encampment turned slightly awkward. The young man was on the receiving end of many irritated glances, but no one spoke to reprimand him.

A series of arguments later and she ended up in the company of a rough riding group of men. They set a harsh pace and looked at her with respect when she did not complain of the lack of comforts.

The three of them had a rotation in teaching her. There were survival skills, learning how to distinguish sounds and the Art of Staying Still and Quiet. And lastly, there was sword fighting. Draco's lessons were quickly trashed and they all scoffed at her etiquette.

"It's sword fighting, not sword play. It's a choice between your life and your enemies'" they told her.

Initially, the gaudy sword of Gryffindor received some insult from the youngest of the rangers. But after she divulged that it was her ancestors' sword, (which it technically was) passed down from father to son, he clammed up. That was also the reason why the men were calling her Gryffon. They had asked after the runes engraved on the sword and she had translated it to them in Westron.

"It is 'Gryffindor'," she explained. "My family values bravery, courage and honor. To be the last heir…it is a heavy sword to bear."

There was understanding in their eyes, as well as sadness. In those times, it made up for all the bruises and saddle-sores she received. There was a sense of companionship amongst these warriors that felt wonderful to her. Hermione and Draco, heck, even Luna, weren't warriors. These men were and that made her settle into her own skin.

Sometimes though, that made Heather irritable to see how other people treated the Dúnedain.

"Do you not complain?" she asked their sort-of leader.

He had simply snorted. "No. What use would that be? This is a job we have tasked ourselves when we lost our lands."

It reminded Heather of the Girl-who-lived title, the position that made one into a pariah. But Heather had not wanted it and found the title shoved on her anyway. These men could have left these people to the wolves (literally and figuratively) but instead embraced their status as a pariah.

Her heart swelled for the three battle-hardened warriors and she impulsively gave them a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

Draco's news came sparingly, and when it did, it was a wealth of information.

_Potter,_

_I hope this finds you well._

_I have settled in one of the many towns of a country named Rohan. They are truly not suspicious of me since I have made myself seemingly blind. These eyes are a damn nuisance sometimes. But this is more than my eyes becoming noticeable. I have started to feel a difference but I will discuss it with you when we meet again in person. Granger, no doubt, will try and dissect it for me. I will spare her the trouble and do it myself._

_These coins…I am wary of using it. It feels like it is giving off a magical aura. If anything is watching, I do not want it to know, or see._

_The chicken – damn it bird! – will serve as our owl. She seems to relish the exercise._

_D.M._

_P.S. I'll warn the others, don't panic yourself._

The letter arrived in one of their older, more recycled parchments. The rangers raised an eyebrow at Hafny but said nothing at the unadulterated joy on her face.

"She's a friend and a messenger," she explained.

They were nice enough not to interrogate her more intensively.

Hermione's letter was curt, which was uncharacteristic of her…to put it mildly. Upon examining the letter, she realized why. She was writing in the code that they invented during the war. It involved Ancient Runes, numbers that represented and scrambled the alphabet and several gibberish shapes that made things complicated. The thing was, three symbols could state an entire sentence.

The letter was summed up as simply,  _"Need your help. Near Rohan, western point. Met with Draco. We need to talk. 3 weeks."_

There was a sense of urgency in the letter and that was worrying to Heather. They had only parted for eight months. Not even near a year.

"Trouble?" they asked as her brow furrowed.

"One of the last that remain of my family is asking for help," she explained. "It feels…worried."

The youngest one snorted. "Hah! Most likely about you."

She scowled at him. Between the three men, he had the least tact, but that was still polite by the standards of most people.

"Do you need to leave?"

Heather sighed. She knew that she would eventually leave them but the sudden arrival of the letter reminded her of it.

"Do you know where Rohan is?" she asked instead.

Eventually, they parted but not before she met their captain, Aragorn. The man had taken in the additional person in the expected encampment without a single reaction.

"Guests?" he had asked in his soft, unused voice.

"She's leaving soon," his second-in-command answered.

Aragorn had cocked an eyebrow at the almost defensive note in his voice but said nothing of it, he had noted the girl's calloused hands and the easy way the sword hung at her side, even if it was rather…noticeable. She was a warrior, and felt like a kindred spirit. For that alone, sharing a fire needed no explanation.

* * *

Heather learned a lot of curse words from the Gryffindor boys and she felt like she used it all up in the journey towards Hermione. It was good that Hafny guided her but owls didn't like slowing down, which frustrated both of them. When fare started to get scarce, Hafny hunted for the both of them.

"I truly dislike horseback riding," were the first words out of her mouth.

Surprise, surprise, Draco was there!

"What?" Heather demanded when they remained silent, staring at her.

Draco approached her patting the top of her head. "She hasn't grown taller."

Hermione unhooked Heathers cowl and examined the hair. "It's gotten more colorful. There's now cream mixed in it."

Heather was tired and saddle-sore. Anger was quick to surge through her at being treated like a science experiment without the proper petri dish. "What is going on?" she exploded.

Draco sighed and sat on his haunches. Hermione was the one to explain things. The scene was familiar and only lacked Luna and they would be back in Grimmauld Place.

"We're changing. Some of them are physical but some of them are also internal," Hermione said bluntly. "Its worrying, feather, because we don't know why it's happening."

A niggle of doubt and worry wedged itself at the back of Heathers mind. "What changed for you, Hermione?"

The brunette started pacing. "I've grown taller. I mean, I know I wasn't exceptional in height or something, but I've grown six inches in eight months. And I've always got an eidetic memory but these past months have been ridiculous! It feels like my mind has gone so sharp."

An incredulous look stole across Heathers face and Draco interrupted before she could say anything that would inspire another rant from Hermione. "She's not bragging," Draco said. "I sent her one of my alchemical problems and she solved it in a day. The Granger I know would have needed a week and a library; she did it in a day and in a godforsaken tavern, without resources!"

The panic subsided and wonder replaced it. Heather wasn't worried. She felt like they had simply reached a level of perfection they ought to have reached back in their own world but certain factors failed to trigger a catalyst. And anyway, theories aside, Hermione getting smarter wasn't a problem for her.

"And Draco," she said. "What about you?"

He shifted uneasily. "I can see souls."

"What?!"

"The purities of their hearts, I mean," he elaborated. "I wrote that I was blindfolding my eyes to keep it hidden, but losing my eyes seemed to make my other senses sharper. I can see their intentions, lies and even thoughts, if I concentrate hard enough."

"Bugger!" both girls exclaimed.

And then he added, "I've grown taller too."

It was ridiculous to get caught up on that fact that both of them had gotten taller and she hadn't but that was what stood out the most to Heather. The Injustice!

"That's so unfair!" she whined. "It doesn't help that I'm bloody short to begin with!"

Both of them laughed at how ridiculous things were.

"What about you, Potter?" Draco asked when the mirth subsided.

The question surprised her. "Me? Nothing. I haven't really had much time for introspection. I've been travelling with men for months! When we cross a stream, it's for the horses. Merlin, now that I think about it, I would like a bath very much."

They laughed again. And from there, it was a simple agreement to go to the Sanctuary.

* * *

"Merlin, Luna!" Hermione exclaimed when they saw the house again for the first time in nearly nine months. It seemed to have expanded from a small cottage into a decent sized two-story house.

"She must have been very bored," Draco remarked.

Heather said nothing, feeling guilt at leaving Luna alone.

A small crack sounded before they could touch the house and it turned out to be Kreacher and Luna…whose eyes had simply widened with relief and happiness. There was no anger at being left behind, or resentment.

"I will prepare a meal and the rooms immediately," Kreacher said, his deeper voice startling the newcomers.

"You're home!" Luna exclaimed. "And with darker and happier eyes," she then latched on to Heather, who felt the first human contact in a couple of months. "Heather, your reflexes have gotten sharper."

Heather gave a nervous laugh. "Really? What makes you say that?"

"Well, your sword was halfway out of its sheath when Kreacher apparated me home." Luna patted her shoulder. "It's alright. I'm especially happy that you received that change, the added speed of your reflexes. It is needed in what you wish to do."

Heather barely had time to smile weakly at Luna before the words registered in Hermione's ears and she started interrogating Luna.

"What do you mean, ' _received_ '?" she asked.

Luna had another one of her patented looks, this time it was the " _you seriously don't know_?" Coupled with her protuberant eyes, it was slightly patronizing. "Rita Skeeter was an animagus. Change is in her blood when she finished the animagus transformation, so of course change is one of the things we will receive."

Hermione's new mind was way too fast. She started firing questions that had Draco and Heather scrambling to catch up. Soon, only Draco was attentively following since Heather had long since discarded her gear and her sword, falling into a light doze by the new fireplace.

"We have Voldemort's corpse integrated into our system?!" Hermione shrieked. It was the question that woke Heather and she instinctively tensed, one of her daggers dropping into her palm with familiarity. Heather nearly threw the knife until she realized she was in the Sanctuary and throwing knives at Hermione wasn't good for their friendship.

"Buggering fuck, woman," Heather growled out irritably. "I'm taking a bath and I hope I drown in it. You just don't scream Voldemort's name around, you know?"

Hermione looked extremely embarrassed and Draco, despite wincing, seemed very entertained. Heather was always bad tempered when it came to Voldemort. It was especially worse if she lacked sleep.

"Feather, don't forget to thank Kreacher! And open your window to let Hafny inside. She's going to be arriving soon," Luna called out as Heather grumpily stomped to the nearest bedroom.

* * *

She slept off her exhaustion from travel for three hours. When she woke, Draco was perched on a chair beside her bed reading a book. When he noticed her return to consciousness, he closed it with a  _snap_!

"Sup?" she asked groggily.

The blonde pointed to the array of daggers on the table, along with her sword and a very fancy looking knife. "I didn't see this on you earlier. Undetectable Extension charms?"

She snorted. "Hell no. I was taught where to hide that on my person so that no one notices." She yawned and stretched. "What did I miss?"

Draco gave her a momentary look of marvel at the degradation of her language before blinking and going back on what he gleaned from last nights discussion. "Apparently, Lovegood says that most of our changes come from Rita Skeeter being an animagus. Voldemort is the counter-balance to your really 'pure' blood. The bones were the stabilizing factor. Technically, if we hadn't taken an animagus, none of this would have happened."

She nodded in agreement. "Alright. So what about the changes? Is there any logic to it?"

Draco looked uncomfortable as Heather practically undressed herself in front of him. She, who had spent her recent time with men and had very little privacy, ignored him.

"She says that it merely enhanced what we already have," he said. Draco was keeping his eyes firmly on the window.

"You can turn around now, Draco." There was amusement in her voice. "I theorized that already. What did Luna receive?"

"She can hear all the voices of living things. No need for physical changes, she was saying earlier, but you should have seen her hair when sunlight touched it. It looked like molten gold."

* * *

They exchanged news over a late dinner, with Heather keeping quiet, simply basking in the feeling of peace and happiness of seeing her friends alive.

"I've been viewing maps," Hermione told them. "And a lot of land is unclaimed. Most of the claimed lands are rather large countries but they leave out tons of empty grasslands alone too. The north, especially, is rather – "

"No, Hermione," Heather interrupted. "The north belongs to the Dúnedain. No map ever says it but their island kingdom sunk to the sea. They all fled to the north. No one likes to confirm that, since they are a race of kings that are technically without a country."

Her eyes went wide. "You've been staying with the Dúnedain! The people call them the Rangers of the North."

Heather nodded, "Yeah. I'll tell you about it later. So, where do you plan to create your orphanage?"

Hermione blushed and reverted to a stuttering mess. "W-well, y-you see…feather, I think…Well, I'm changing my plans a little bit. There are dozens of towns that are neglected and then, when I was in a barge, we came across pirates. I can't explain it well, but there was a taint of malice around them that made them cruel to everything. I wanted to help them, but then, how many people are like that?"

Draco summed it up neatly. "So you want to give them proper warding?"

"But how do you plan to do that?" Luna asked. "The malice you felt will keep battering at your wards, eventually weakening it. You'll have to redo it every year or so."

Hermione nodded with determination. "It'll be a lifelong goal. Besides, the taint seems to originate from one place. If you guys agree, I'll set up Blood wards to block most of the miasma and keep it in one place."

There was a round of agreement. And then, it was Draco's turn.

"People call me 'Hodur'." Draco said.

"The blind god of the norse pantheon?" Hermione asked. "Won't he be offended?"

Heather chuckled. "Mione, the norse aren't here. These people have a different set of gods. Go on, Draco."

"I go around the village, feeling for illness. When that's done, I commission the village children to gather my herbs for me. Some days I experiment, other days I brew. Most of the time, I end up discouraging people from apprenticing with me."

"Why ever not?" Luna asked.

Draco had an extremely distressed look on his face. "I'm a potions master Lovegood! I don't heal people. I make the brews to heal people! For Merlin's sake! They stitch people here!"

"Well, of course they will!" Hermione exclaimed. "They don't have healing magic here. Most things will just have to heal naturally."

Draco shuddered and Heather finally let out her laughter. "Don't be such a pansy, Draco! I have tried some stitches myself. Look!" she showed them a long line running up her bicep.

"Feather!" Hermione exclaimed. "Where in the world did you get that?"

She shrugged. "Faced a rabid bear. Now that I think about it, Mione, that miasma is probably the reason why there are dark creatures in the north."

Luna ignored the bit about the miasma and ran a finger through the line of the scar. "Did it hurt very much?" she asked with clinical curiosity.

"Nope. As sore as anything, but it wasn't painful."

Hermione cut in. "If it suits you, can we do the Blood wards this week? The more I hear about it, the more troubled I get."

They all agreed and Draco added, "But I have to return to the village now. They think I am foraging for obscure herbs, so it isn't uncommon for me to vanish. But a week will make them worry."

Luna and Kreacher sent Draco off while Hermione and Heather exchanged knowing looks where he couldn't see it.

"The responsibility is good for him," Hermione said.

"He looks better now too," Heather agreed. "I like Hodur better than Draco."


	4. Destiny

The installation of the Blood wards left the four of them very tired and extremely lazy for three days. Draco only had time to rest for one day before he went back to his village. He grumbled and complained all the way about the soreness of his body but they all knew he was just complaining for the sake of it.

Hermione left five days later, bringing Luna with her. Heather didn't mind the probability of being alone for months. After her training with the rangers, she relished the feeling of safety and privacy.

She ran and trained every morning with Hafny, trying to push her new speed to its limits. Her goal was to outrun the extremely fast-flying eagle owl. So far, in their races, she had only won once.

In the evenings she tried her hand at sewing. The keyword there is tried.

The lack of "common clothes", as Hermione called it, had initially worried her. She had brought bolts of cloth at every village they had stopped in until she realized that she would have to learn tailoring – by herself. Here, Kreacher was an unexpected help…and hindrance.

"Miss Heather," Kreacher said sternly in his new deep voice. "What are you doing?"

Heather looked at him with a guilty face. There seemed to be an explosion of colors and cloth all around her. "Ah, Kreacher. This is an experiment."

Kreacher looked upset. It was particularly painful to watch with his new and expressive face. "Miss Heather is making clothes!" he cried. "Miss Heather doesn't have clothes? Why didn't Miss Heather ask Kreacher?" he was so upset that his newfound grammar had deserted him.

Heather was then forced to leave the tailoring to the house-elf. And since Kreacher nearly had no sense of fashion, he left the art of it to her. So she drew and showed it to him and they collaborated. That had both of them happy and occupied for months.

Lack of things to do did not bother her until the fifth month. That was when she and Kreacher nearly had another argument when Heather tried to cook. They spent that day hammering out a ' _treaty_ ' of sorts. Heather was allowed to cook if she made a really big mess and allowed Kreacher to clean. The practicality of that appealed to Heather, who hated to wash dishes.

Conversations were scarce and when it happened, it was memorable. One such example:

"Kreacher, don't you wish to change your name? Or do other things than serve?"

The house-elf puffed up proudly. "My name was given to me by Master Regulus. And Kreacher is happy to serve. It is the vocation of house-elves to serve wizards. Kreacher bound himself to serve the Blacks. As long as a Black lives, Kreacher will serve."

Heather nodded. "But if we die, what will happen to you?"

The thought had evidently not occurred to him. When his bat-like ears quivered and drooped, Heather felt like the worst bitch.

"Kreacher doesn't know," he said in a small voice. Then a determined glint entered his eyes. "But that doesn't mean you will all die out. Miss Heather is a good witch and will have babies with Master Draco, right?"

It nearly made Heather asphyxiate with laughter.

* * *

Heather did her usual morning run with Hafny taunting her about being a slowpoke. And then a panicked Kreacher apparated right in front of her and took her back to the Sanctuary with a  _ **crack**_!

"Kreacher, what?" she started and then cut herself off when she saw a sobbing pile of molten gold by the fireplace. Worry filled her, nearly the same time that a murderous rage did. Someone had made Luna cry. They culprit didn't deserve death, they were asking for an eternity of exquisite torture.

"Luna, sweetheart?" Heather said softly. There was no reaction except for an increase in the volume of the weeping so she tried another tactic. "Moonbeam, who made you cry?" no response. It seemed that she was going to spend the night with Luna so she turned to the house-elf that was anxiously hovering beside her. "Kreacher, a blanket and a cup of water please."

It took time but Luna's weeping eventually subsided. When she finally managed a sentence without breaking down to tears, Heather felt like cheering.

"Feather, I want to sleep," she mumbled softly.

"Moonbeam, a little soup and then you can sleep."

The worry stayed with Heather until the next day, when Luna woke mid-afternoon the next day looking very pale.

"I'm sorry for making you worry," Luna said softly. "It's just that…sometimes this gift is a curse."

Epiphany came over Heather. "You saw something yesterday. A life being lost."

Luna nodded. "I was in shock, I think. That was the first time I heard a soul scream as it was ripped from its body."

"Oh, moonbeam," Heather sighed.

By the third day, when Heather was seriously contemplating to send for Draco (because he had the exceptional ability to shock Luna into listening and obeying him), Luna came down the stairs with a packed bag and a determined expression. She felt immense relief pour through her, but that vanished with Luna's next words.

"I'm going to learn healing," Luna said softly. "But that means you can't stay in the Sanctuary."

Heather was flabbergasted. "Luna? What do you mean?"

"If I'm going to lean healing," Luna enunciated slowly, like she was talking to a dumb person. "That is going to take years. You can't stay here for years!"

Oh.

"Kreacher can take care of the house," Luna interrupted before she could even protest. "And he'll do an excellent job of it."

Irritation. Despite the fact that Luna was a good friend, Heather sometimes forgot that she was a pureblood too. And with being a pureblood came the disregard of house-elves.

She breathed slowly to stop harsh words from coming out of her mouth.

"Luna, you weren't there when I first entered Grimmauld place. Kreacher had been alone for nearly sixteen hears and was slowly going mad." There was a sound of a distressed house-elf somewhere but Heather plowed on. "I am not leaving him alone to deteriorate to the same condition."

Kreacher couldn't hold it in and burst out, "Miss Heather! Kreacher will be fine! Kreacher can't stop Miss Heather's happiness."

Bleeding stubborn house-elves.

"Kreacher, I like you very much despite being a grouchy elf," she stated bluntly. That shocked him so much that he fell silent.

Luna looked sad. "I'm sorry, feather," and moved to unpack.

Heathers temper flared. Really, attempting to stop cursing was a lost cause.

"Bloody hell, Luna," Heather scowled. "Sit down. Kreacher isn't going to stay here and you are going to learn healing. Kreacher is going to help Draco with his potions."

There was a startled squeak somewhere by her feet and she would have found it funny if she wasn't so annoyed by Luna's dramatics.

"Kreacher, you can come here to clean once a week and then you're going to set up a proximity ward so that all of us - yes Kreacher even you, can tell if someone comes here. Is that agreeable?"

Kreacher raised a hand looking tentative. "Miss Heather, cleaning once a week will allow dust to and mildew to settle. Thrice a week."

Heather was reminded of the time of the  _ **Treaty**_. "No Kreacher. Don't overwork yourself. Twice a week."

They quickly shook hands on it. Luna was watching with bemused eyes.

* * *

Heather never realized how much she missed hunting down dark wolves and trolls until she was doing it again. She was also more proficient in taking down the larger opponents, which saved her from drinking the foul potions that Draco sent her the moment he heard she was back in active duty. In the note that accompanied it, he called it the  _Potter Care Kit_.

Hafny was her constant companion and sometimes partner. He often blinded opponents to buy her time, especially when she was fighting large groups by herself. He got so good at it that the next town she stopped in, she custom made some sharp blades to attach to her talons and a sort of armor for the rest of the owls soft body.

Heather did not really pick a direction and instead just focused in the ground to see tracks of dark creatures. Most of them were by the north so she also bumped into some Dúnedain. The first time it happened, the men were so surprised to see a girl fighting that they nearly got skewered, so Heather learned to keep her cowl up until they sat and shared a fire. Mealtimes were, after all, safer for gaping than skirmishes.

Word slowly got around their ranks and they eventually greeted her by the name, "Gryffon" cordially. Well, as cordially as reticent men could.

She eventually met Aragorn again but had forgotten the first time they met. He was in the same state until he saw the bejeweled hilt of the sword of Gryffindor.

"Ah!" he exclaimed softly. "You were that stranger that shared a fire with my men."

Confusion beset Heather until she looked more closely at the dirt stained man that had more lines on his face and a grimmer set to his shoulders than the captain she had see many months ago. "Oh!" she remarked. "I had forgotten."

"I as well," he said. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

A bemused look crossed her face. "Gryffon, last of the bloodline of Gryffindor."

They shared a fire, a meal and silence. It was companionship and felt truly wonderful. That lasted until she removed her cowl to wash her hair and face.

"You are a girl," he said in a dumbfounded voice. "I thought your voice was a little high."

Not to be wondered at since, for a girl, her voice was slightly deeper and huskier. Hermione, in a drunken moment, called it a Sexual voice.

Heather flashed him a grin and did her ablutions. When she returned, the interrogation started. Well, maybe that was a bit mean. Aragorn was too polite to actually interrogate. He merely looked so damnably curious until Heather relented.

"The Gryffindor's were a secret bloodline," she said. "Our vows were honor, chivalry and courage. In every war, we participated. That severely decimated our family. A couple of years ago, I became the last in our line."

That wasn't a lie. Neither was it the complete truth.

"Who taught you the sword?" was the last question.

"Your men did, actually." Oh, the look on his face was priceless.

It was by mutual agreement that both of them decided to travel together. Aragorn's duties were to guard the borders of a certain town. Heather's goals were to kill as many dark creatures as possible. It was beneficial, either way.

Hafny had drawn a curious look when she showed up carrying a letter from Hermione but respect came to his face when the owl took down a lone wolf by herself.

"Did you train her?" Aragorn asked. There was envy in his voice. Heather was hard pressed to keep a straight face.

"She came to me one day, asking to follow me. So I said yes. If you want your own companion, you'll have to ask Hafny."

He didn't think she was serious. And he especially looked at her funny when she talked to Hafny the following night. Aragorn then thanked her profusely when a black eagle-owl came swooping down to say hello a week later. Aragorn called him,  _Maethor_ , which was elvish for warrior.

* * *

The problem with travelling with another person came up when Heather found she couldn't use magic in more obvious ways. Cushioning charms were discreet enough when aimed at the hard ground for sleeping but the Impedimenta Jinx, which she used liberally, was to be avoided since he could notice the trolls slowing down.

Her speed, which she had forgotten, came into play and she moved faster than any human to avoid a crushing blow. Three poisoned daggers later and the troll was at her feet.

Then she looked tentatively at Aragorn, who was white as a sheet.

"Aragorn?" she asked.

That unfroze him.

"By the Valar!" he exclaimed. "I thought that blow would kill you." Then he moved to hug her.

It was then that Heather discovered the change that had come to her gradually. The epiphanies she had when talking to people, especially Luna, and all the knowledge she had about where the dark creatures were…they were all to prepare her about the larger change and that was precognition.

She saw Aragorn talking to a very beautiful woman (elf, her mind supplied when she saw the pointed ears.) in the middle of a garden. There was a broken sword and a crown.

She broke the hug and staggered back, looking at him with wide eyes. "Yo-you're the subject of a prophecy," she gasped.

If possible, he went even whiter but he was still conscious enough to settle them away from the carcass of a troll.

"Gryffon, explain," he stated – no – demanded, in a rough voice.

"It's a family gift," she stuttered. "My father could talk his way out of anything." Well, that was James Potter in a nutshell. Not exactly a lie. "My mother, no one could hate her." And all people she talked to loved Lily Potter, even Snape. Aunt Petunia didn't count. Not a lie either. "My sister can hear the voices of living things. And my brother can see their souls." Not a lie in the strictest sense since Draco and her were cousins and Luna, being a pureblood meant they were related in some obscure way.

If he wanted to know about Hermione, he'd just have to meet her to understand. Hermione was…Hermione.

"And you?"

She gulped. "I – I just saw the future when you touched me. You are a very important person, apparently so I couldn't stop myself." Heather hunched forward defensively, aware of what a violation of privacy that was. And Aragorn was the definition of a very private person. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the ground.

His rough, calloused hands were gentle as he lifted her head to look at him. "Oh, child. You don't have to apologize. Was that the first time you used that gift?"

As she nodded, Heather felt herself tearing up. She couldn't help it. Aragorn reminded her of Remus Lupin.

He patted her cautiously and produced a handkerchief.

That made her give a teary laugh.

"What?"

She sniffled. "We're in the middle of the wilderness and as grimy as anything…and you have a clean handkerchief on you?"

The situation made the stoic man crack a smile. Heather giggled even as she made a mental note to write to the others about all the misdirection's she told in the past few minutes.

* * *

Heather did not intend to stay too long with Aragorn but after he found out about her gift, the trust issues went lesser and made her relax minutely around him. Not enough to tell him about being from another world, or about her magic, but enough to trust him with her life in a fight. He probably felt the same way since he started getting more talkative. He graduated from monosyllabic answers to giving out phrases.

He told Heather about growing up with elves (and wasn't that a surprise!) and explained what the broken sword and crown meant.

"Then why don't you claim the crown?" she asked.

People had asked him that before but not with just plain curiosity and without the envy and censure. Aragorn was obliged to answer. "I do not wish to follow the path of my ancestor and lead the kingdom to ruin. His blood runs in my veins. I'll probably make the same mistake."

A funny spasm went though Heather. That was exactly the line of thought she had entertained most of her school life, especially after she found out she was a Horcrux.

"I won't force you to make your choices," she said with a wry twist to her mouth. "I'm not in the position to, anyway. But I'll tell you something my grandfather told me when I started to doubt myself." She looked at Aragorn firmly in the eye and said softly. "It is not by our blood, or abilities that show us what we truly are. It is our choices."

Casting the manipulative old bastard as her grandfather made shudders race up her spine but was totally worth the discomfort when it made the pinched look go away from Aragorns features.

* * *

**Author notes:**

**If you wish this to be longer, as I was told to do so repeatedly, then I will update longer. See, there's a cause and effect going on here.**

**Midterms just ended and life returns to normal. Any more questions will be answered in the next Story notes. And, if you people ask, you bleeding ought to read it too.**

**~Lady Hallen**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Hypocrites**

* * *

**Story notes:**

**Kreacher has some mention in this chapter, to those Kreacher lovers who seem to mention him every review. (Lol.)**

* * *

" _Hypocrites get offended by the truth."_

_-Jess C. Scott, Bad Romance: Seven Deadly Sins Anthology-_

* * *

Heather broke out into a loud laugh at the sight that met her.

The Sanctuary now had curtains…and an extra floor. It had also gotten wider. Apparently, the orders she had given to Kreacher weren't enough to keep him busy, or maybe Draco decided to keep the third floor for himself. If so, then he would be in for an argument.

She composed herself and entered the Sanctuary, only to lose it again when she saw the scene.

Kreacher was running after Hermione, saying something about toadstools. Luna was engaging in a loud shouting match with Draco about the placement of something. And everything else was scattered about in a way that spoke of inhabitants. She even saw a pot in the kitchen boil over and it made Kreacher give a squeak of alarm.

"Merlin, this place is a mess," she exclaimed. Despite using Westron for most of the time, English still felt natural on her tongue.

At her words, all inhabitants of the house noticed her and burst into loud exclamations.

"Potter! Tell Lovegood that she can't keep the bloody menace as a pet!" Draco said.

"Feather!" both girls said at the same time Kreacher nearly wailed, "Miss Heather! Tell Miss Hermione that pink toadstools are poisonous and will not be added to the pot!"

Heather just grinned at them. "I'm home," and continued since Kreacher looked ready to burst into tears, "Pink toadstools are not edible unless you hammer them to bits." She eyed the pot. "We likely don't have time for it. Bu Hafny caught a rabbit on our way here."

That left the problem of Luna's new pet but that could be solved later. She was too happy to solve other problems anyway. It had been nearly two years since she last saw all of them.

Draco looked the same, long blonde hair pulled back by a black ribbon, gleaming silver eyes serious. Luna had a healthier flush to her cheeks and her golden hair was longer. Hermione though, was dangerously thin. That was one of the hazards of constant travelling. She probably was in the same state.

"Come here, you nutter," Draco said.

The four of them embraced in a tangled mess of limbs and bodies. Heather was grateful she had dropped her sword and the rest of the other pointed weapons by the door otherwise it would have poked someone by the force of the hugs she was receiving.

"You crazy lot," Hermione said with affection.

"Crazy indeed," Heather agreed. "You're the only people I know who would hug me when I'm this dirty."

Draco promptly released her. That had the girls laughing.

It was as though they didn't change. Heather could almost relax. But something had changed. The four of them were quieter. Isolation from the only people they could talk to without reservation had changed them into less talkative people. It was most obvious on Hermione and Luna. Draco and Heather were quiet people by nature and isolation had made them almost mute.

For other people, dinner would have been an awkward affair. Nobody talked, not out of embarrassment but out of habit. Midway through it, Luna started to hum a song and Draco must have recognized it because he cracked a smile.

As the plates were cleared away, they nursed cups of cider and exchanged news that couldn't be written on letters.

"I've found a cure for deafness," Draco announced. "As well as blindness."

The girls perked up at the good news. "Really? Hermione said. She smiled and it stretched the thin skin on her face. It nearly made Heather wince.

Draco nodded. "I met the prince of Rohan. His father was suffering from it, apparently. They offered to let me live in their main house."

"Did you accept?" Heather asked.

He snorted. "No. Lovegood sent me a letter. Something about making a school for learning healing."

Even if it wasn't said as a question, he managed to make it sound like one. They all turned to look at Luna, who beamed at him.

"I've travelled around the continent to learn healing from different kinds of people," she said. "There is only one person left to apprentice myself to, and then I would be done. That said, a resident potions master would be great."

Despite himself, Draco looked intrigued. "Alright," he nodded. "I'll go pack my stuff. The villagers will be told that my sister needs my help."

And this time, he drew the attention to Heather. "By the way," Draco continued. "What possessed you to make Lovegood and me twins? For that matter, you and I don't even look remotely alike, let alone related."

Even if he was scowling, there was a pleased undertone to his voice. Heather simply laughed at him. "By Morgana's tits, Draco! If you wanted to be a brother to Hermioe, you simply had to say so!"

This set off a round of spluttering and laughter. When it died down, Heather turned to Hermione. "And you're all purebloods and related to me somehow. Hermione is a muggleborn. I'm claiming her as my favorite distant cousin."

That made Hermione smile at Heather in gratitude since she had been a bit hurt to be excluded.

But as always, Draco had the last say in the matter. "But the old goat, Potter? You set me up as related to him. Merlin, it's like besmirching my grandfathers' grave. Poor Abraxas must be rolling in his coffin."

* * *

Heather waited until Draco and Luna were asleep before confronting Hermione.

"This has to stop, Mione!" Heather hissed quietly. "If this goes on, you'll drop from exhaustion."

Hermione looked startled at being confronted, and then angry. "You're one to talk. You're getting thinner too."

"But I can regain my weight from two days meals and I get exhausted from the travel and the fighting. You're being beaten down by the travel and overuse of magic!" she said. It was a trial to reign in her temper. "Every village I stopped in, I rested for a day or so. What about you? When was the last time you rested in between warding? You're suffering from magical exhaustion!"

Hermione sagged. "Feather, you don't understand. Every ward I put up only lasts three months or so."

"Then find a permanent solution!" she said. The temptation to yell had never been stronger. "Your new brain ought to help with that. Merlin, we took the Black library with us. The solution should be there somewhere."

Hermione eventually admitted to being ridiculous despite being so smart. When she headed to bed, Heather settled in front of the fire with a sigh. She quelled the urge to cry at how thin Hermione had gotten. If Luna hadn't…

There was a pop! and Kreacher appeared by her elbow. "Miss Heather should sleep," then he noticed the shine of tears in her green eyes. "Miss Heather is sad?"

Heather hugged the house-elf, who had gotten taller again. He was currently the height of an eight year old human child.

"Oh, Kreacher," she sighed. "I forgot why we stayed with each other when we were younger. It was to watch out for each other, because no one else would tell us we were being stupid but each other." And Hermione nearly killed herself if Luna hadn't called for a reunion.

"Kreacher will do it!" Kreacher said eagerly. "Kreacher can fetch any of the others if missy's are being stupid." It went unsaid that Draco would not abuse his body. He was rather conscious of his health.

Heather felt her heart swell at the earnest words from the house-elf. "Oh Kreacher. But you'll tire yourself out!" she cried.

For the first time, Kreacher sent Heather an irritated look. "Kreacher tried to tell Miss Heather, but missy would not listen. Kreacher doesn't get tired anymore. Kreacher only gets tired if missy and the others are beings naughty and is not resting."

Merlin's buggering beard. That meant the bond between master and house-elf had also mutated when they passed through the veil. Another change on top of everything else. She only hoped Kreacher didn't feel her own deteriorating health.

Instead of showing how worried that made her, Heather just flashed Kreacher an impish grin. "Thanks Kreacher. You're the best."

Heather waited until she was alone in her room, with silencing wards in all of her walls before she released the tight hold she had on her precognition ability.

For the first week after she awakened the gift, she flinched every time she touched something. She had taken to wearing dragon-hide gloves as a consequence. Eventually she learned to rein it in but the gift struck back at night with a vengeance. She had taken to drinking a mouthful of dreamless sleep every night so she could at least get an hours' sleep at night without being plagued by indecipherable dreams and screams of terror. The darkness that Hermione was working to contain had also affected her dreams.

To add to that, she had not told her pseudo-siblings of the late development of her gift. Besides, none of them had complained about hearing living things, or seeing souls of people (Heather conveniently forgot Luna's mental breakdown several months ago). And Hermione probably slept through the night without being plagued by formulae…not bloody likely.

She knew she was being stupid about it and the others probably wouldn't hesitate to help if she asked but she wanted to try solving it on her own first.

Distantly, she heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Draco say, "Bleeding stuffed up Gryffindor pride."

She ruthlessly quashed it as she gulped the dreamless sleep potion.

* * *

"I met the steward of Gondor," Hermione said with pink cheeks. She had regained the weight she had lost under Kreachers watchful eyes.

Draco looked from perusing an Ancient Runes text. "Yeah?" he said. "They're pretty good friends with Prince Theoden."

Luna nodded. "They would be. Rohan and Gondor are good friends. Fenny likes Rohan very much."

Fenny was the name of the fox that Luna had nursed back to health. Draco tended to avoid it, muttering dire predictions about people dying via fox. Heather didn't even try to dissuade Luna about keeping Fenny. Luna had simply turned those big, silvery-grey eyes at her and Heather caved. Hermione was being a coward about it and simply would not take a side, saying, "Switzerland! Switzerland!" every time Draco whined.

Heather ignored the bit about Fenny. "Did you know that there are elves in this world?" she said instead. "Like, the tall and cute ones."

The rest didn't drop or have any kind of extreme reaction but there was a certain stillness about her three friends that denoted complete and total attention.

"They have er, had a Dark Lord too," Heather plowed on blithely. "It's pretty much very interesting."

"Hold up," Hermione said. "Let's do this one at a time. Elves? Elves that are not house-elves?"

Heather nodded. "Yep. Tall, graceful, wise and near-immortal elves. The whole package."

Draco whistled (and Heather marveled because when did Draco do anything as plebian as whistling?). "Merlin," he said. "And I thought the people in Rohan were joking when they said, "as talented as an elf."

All of them looked at Kreacher, who suddenly looked nervous at the sudden attention. Luna patted the top of Kreachers head and said, "Well, Kreacher is clearly a house-elf. But nobody knows that. Maybe we can just call him 'house'?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken by Draco snorting and gasping with laughter. Hermione soon followed and Heather held out only by not looking at everyone else. Luna merely looked confused and that made it funnier.

"But seriously though," Hermione cut in, still hiccupping with mirth. "What about Kreacher?"

"Why don't we just wing it?" Luna answered. Her dreamy voice had Draco in another fit of laughter. Heather and Hermione ignored him but it could be noted that Hermione would cough every so often and Heathers ribs were near cracking at holding back her own howls.

"What do you mean, Luna?" Heather eventually said when Luna continued to look at them with a puzzled face.

"When you don't plan things, feather, everything goes well," Luna answered. She was kind enough not to add, "But when you do, it all goes to hell."

Kreacher served them spring water and cider. All of them composed themselves until Hermione suddenly touched the darker and grimmer part of Heather's news.

"A Dark Lord, feather?" Hermione said.

It was a very politely said demand. Heather obliged and told them all about the war of the Dark Lord – as Aragorn had told it. She remembered to omit Aragorn's role as Isildur's heir though. She was sometimes haunted by how pale Aragorn had turned when she had blurted out, "You're part of a prophecy." No matter how kindly he had reassured her, it was still a violation of privacy.

At the end of it, all of them were pale.

"Merlin's baggy y-fronts," someone muttered.

Heather met Hermione's eyes and said quietly. "It's a Horcrux, Mione. That ring is a Horcrux. Their Dark Lord only made one, so it will probably be stronger than the locket ever was."

They went to bed that night in subdued and somber spirits. It went unsaid that Heather would help destroy this Dark Lord too. And it was also unspoken agreement between the others that they would not leave her to it.


	5. Hypocrites

Heather broke out into a loud laugh at the sight that met her.

The Sanctuary now had curtains…and an extra floor. It had also gotten wider. Apparently, the orders she had given to Kreacher weren't enough to keep him busy, or maybe Draco decided to keep the third floor for himself. If so, then he would be in for an argument.

She composed herself and entered the Sanctuary, only to lose it again when she saw the scene.

Kreacher was running after Hermione, saying something about toadstools. Luna was engaging in a loud shouting match with Draco about the placement of something. And everything else was scattered about in a way that spoke of inhabitants. She even saw a pot in the kitchen boil over and it made Kreacher give a squeak of alarm.

"Merlin, this place is a mess," she exclaimed. Despite using Westron for most of the time, English still felt natural on her tongue.

At her words, all inhabitants of the house noticed her and burst into loud exclamations.

"Potter! Tell Lovegood that she can't keep the bloody menace as a pet!" Draco said.

"Feather!" both girls said at the same time Kreacher nearly wailed, "Miss Heather! Tell Miss Hermione that pink toadstools are poisonous and will not be added to the pot!"

Heather just grinned at them. "I'm home," and continued since Kreacher looked ready to burst into tears, "Pink toadstools are not edible unless you hammer them to bits." She eyed the pot. "We likely don't have time for it. Bu Hafny caught a rabbit on our way here."

That left the problem of Luna's new pet but that could be solved later. She was too happy to solve other problems anyway. It had been nearly two years since she last saw all of them.

Draco looked the same, long blonde hair pulled back by a black ribbon, gleaming silver eyes serious. Luna had a healthier flush to her cheeks and her golden hair was longer. Hermione though, was dangerously thin. That was one of the hazards of constant travelling. She probably was in the same state.

"Come here, you nutter," Draco said.

The four of them embraced in a tangled mess of limbs and bodies. Heather was grateful she had dropped her sword and the rest of the other pointed weapons by the door otherwise it would have poked someone by the force of the hugs she was receiving.

"You crazy lot," Hermione said with affection.

"Crazy indeed," Heather agreed. "You're the only people I know who would hug me when I'm this dirty."

Draco promptly released her. That had the girls laughing.

It was as though they didn't change. Heather could almost relax. But something had changed. The four of them were quieter. Isolation from the only people they could talk to without reservation had changed them into less talkative people. It was most obvious on Hermione and Luna. Draco and Heather were quiet people by nature and isolation had made them almost mute.

For other people, dinner would have been an awkward affair. Nobody talked, not out of embarrassment but out of habit. Midway through it, Luna started to hum a song and Draco must have recognized it because he cracked a smile.

As the plates were cleared away, they nursed cups of cider and exchanged news that couldn't be written on letters.

"I've found a cure for deafness," Draco announced. "As well as blindness."

The girls perked up at the good news. "Really? Hermione said. She smiled and it stretched the thin skin on her face. It nearly made Heather wince.

Draco nodded. "I met the prince of Rohan. His father was suffering from it, apparently. They offered to let me live in their main house."

"Did you accept?" Heather asked.

He snorted. "No. Lovegood sent me a letter. Something about making a school for learning healing."

Even if it wasn't said as a question, he managed to make it sound like one. They all turned to look at Luna, who beamed at him.

"I've travelled around the continent to learn healing from different kinds of people," she said. "There is only one person left to apprentice myself to, and then I would be done. That said, a resident potions master would be great."

Despite himself, Draco looked intrigued. "Alright," he nodded. "I'll go pack my stuff. The villagers will be told that my sister needs my help."

And this time, he drew the attention to Heather. "By the way," Draco continued. "What possessed you to make Lovegood and me twins? For that matter, you and I don't even look remotely alike, let alone related."

Even if he was scowling, there was a pleased undertone to his voice. Heather simply laughed at him. "By Morgana's tits, Draco! If you wanted to be a brother to Hermioe, you simply had to say so!"

This set off a round of spluttering and laughter. When it died down, Heather turned to Hermione. "And you're all purebloods and related to me somehow. Hermione is a muggleborn. I'm claiming her as my favorite distant cousin."

That made Hermione smile at Heather in gratitude since she had been a bit hurt to be excluded.

But as always, Draco had the last say in the matter. "But the old goat, Potter? You set me up as related to him. Merlin, it's like besmirching my grandfathers' grave. Poor Abraxas must be rolling in his coffin."

* * *

Heather waited until Draco and Luna were asleep before confronting Hermione.

"This has to stop, Mione!" Heather hissed quietly. "If this goes on, you'll drop from exhaustion."

Hermione looked startled at being confronted, and then angry. "You're one to talk. You're getting thinner too."

"But I can regain my weight from two days meals and I get exhausted from the travel and the fighting. You're being beaten down by the travel and overuse of magic!" she said. It was a trial to reign in her temper. "Every village I stopped in, I rested for a day or so. What about you? When was the last time you rested in between warding? You're suffering from magical exhaustion!"

Hermione sagged. "Feather, you don't understand. Every ward I put up only lasts three months or so."

"Then find a permanent solution!" she said. The temptation to yell had never been stronger. "Your new brain ought to help with that. Merlin, we took the Black library with us. The solution should be there somewhere."

Hermione eventually admitted to being ridiculous despite being so smart. When she headed to bed, Heather settled in front of the fire with a sigh. She quelled the urge to cry at how thin Hermione had gotten. If Luna hadn't…

There was a pop! and Kreacher appeared by her elbow. "Miss Heather should sleep," then he noticed the shine of tears in her green eyes. "Miss Heather is sad?"

Heather hugged the house-elf, who had gotten taller again. He was currently the height of an eight year old human child.

"Oh, Kreacher," she sighed. "I forgot why we stayed with each other when we were younger. It was to watch out for each other, because no one else would tell us we were being stupid but each other." And Hermione nearly killed herself if Luna hadn't called for a reunion.

"Kreacher will do it!" Kreacher said eagerly. "Kreacher can fetch any of the others if missy's are being stupid." It went unsaid that Draco would not abuse his body. He was rather conscious of his health.

Heather felt her heart swell at the earnest words from the house-elf. "Oh Kreacher. But you'll tire yourself out!" she cried.

For the first time, Kreacher sent Heather an irritated look. "Kreacher tried to tell Miss Heather, but missy would not listen. Kreacher doesn't get tired anymore. Kreacher only gets tired if missy and the others are beings naughty and is not resting."

Merlin's buggering beard. That meant the bond between master and house-elf had also mutated when they passed through the veil. Another change on top of everything else. She only hoped Kreacher didn't feel her own deteriorating health.

Instead of showing how worried that made her, Heather just flashed Kreacher an impish grin. "Thanks Kreacher. You're the best."

Heather waited until she was alone in her room, with silencing wards in all of her walls before she released the tight hold she had on her precognition ability.

For the first week after she awakened the gift, she flinched every time she touched something. She had taken to wearing dragon-hide gloves as a consequence. Eventually she learned to rein it in but the gift struck back at night with a vengeance. She had taken to drinking a mouthful of dreamless sleep every night so she could at least get an hours' sleep at night without being plagued by indecipherable dreams and screams of terror. The darkness that Hermione was working to contain had also affected her dreams.

To add to that, she had not told her pseudo-siblings of the late development of her gift. Besides, none of them had complained about hearing living things, or seeing souls of people (Heather conveniently forgot Luna's mental breakdown several months ago). And Hermione probably slept through the night without being plagued by formulae…not bloody likely.

She knew she was being stupid about it and the others probably wouldn't hesitate to help if she asked but she wanted to try solving it on her own first.

Distantly, she heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Draco say, "Bleeding stuffed up Gryffindor pride."

She ruthlessly quashed it as she gulped the dreamless sleep potion.

* * *

"I met the steward of Gondor," Hermione said with pink cheeks. She had regained the weight she had lost under Kreachers watchful eyes.

Draco looked from perusing an Ancient Runes text. "Yeah?" he said. "They're pretty good friends with Prince Theoden."

Luna nodded. "They would be. Rohan and Gondor are good friends. Fenny likes Rohan very much."

Fenny was the name of the fox that Luna had nursed back to health. Draco tended to avoid it, muttering dire predictions about people dying via fox. Heather didn't even try to dissuade Luna about keeping Fenny. Luna had simply turned those big, silvery-grey eyes at her and Heather caved. Hermione was being a coward about it and simply would not take a side, saying, "Switzerland! Switzerland!" every time Draco whined.

Heather ignored the bit about Fenny. "Did you know that there are elves in this world?" she said instead. "Like, the tall and cute ones."

The rest didn't drop or have any kind of extreme reaction but there was a certain stillness about her three friends that denoted complete and total attention.

"They have er, had a Dark Lord too," Heather plowed on blithely. "It's pretty much very interesting."

"Hold up," Hermione said. "Let's do this one at a time. Elves? Elves that are not house-elves?"

Heather nodded. "Yep. Tall, graceful, wise and near-immortal elves. The whole package."

Draco whistled (and Heather marveled because when did Draco do anything as plebian as whistling?). "Merlin," he said. "And I thought the people in Rohan were joking when they said, "as talented as an elf."

All of them looked at Kreacher, who suddenly looked nervous at the sudden attention. Luna patted the top of Kreachers head and said, "Well, Kreacher is clearly a house-elf. But nobody knows that. Maybe we can just call him 'house'?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken by Draco snorting and gasping with laughter. Hermione soon followed and Heather held out only by not looking at everyone else. Luna merely looked confused and that made it funnier.

"But seriously though," Hermione cut in, still hiccupping with mirth. "What about Kreacher?"

"Why don't we just wing it?" Luna answered. Her dreamy voice had Draco in another fit of laughter. Heather and Hermione ignored him but it could be noted that Hermione would cough every so often and Heathers ribs were near cracking at holding back her own howls.

"What do you mean, Luna?" Heather eventually said when Luna continued to look at them with a puzzled face.

"When you don't plan things, feather, everything goes well," Luna answered. She was kind enough not to add, "But when you do, it all goes to hell."

Kreacher served them spring water and cider. All of them composed themselves until Hermione suddenly touched the darker and grimmer part of Heather's news.

"A Dark Lord, feather?" Hermione said.

It was a very politely said demand. Heather obliged and told them all about the war of the Dark Lord – as Aragorn had told it. She remembered to omit Aragorn's role as Isildur's heir though. She was sometimes haunted by how pale Aragorn had turned when she had blurted out, "You're part of a prophecy." No matter how kindly he had reassured her, it was still a violation of privacy.

At the end of it, all of them were pale.

"Merlin's baggy y-fronts," someone muttered.

Heather met Hermione's eyes and said quietly. "It's a Horcrux, Mione. That ring is a Horcrux. Their Dark Lord only made one, so it will probably be stronger than the locket ever was."

They went to bed that night in subdued and somber spirits. It went unsaid that Heather would help destroy this Dark Lord too. And it was also unspoken agreement between the others that they would not leave her to it.


	6. Elves, Dwarves and Common sense

Exhaustion and lack of sleep was held back by sheer will. She was also suffering from potions addiction. Kreacher did not notice because the other three people he was anchored to were healthy. Heather hid it with the same expertise she hid the blood quill and "I must not tell lies."

But Heather chafed and jumped at the chance when Luna asked to be accompanied to the best Healer in all of Arda (That was actually the name of the continent, who knew?).

It was easier to hide things, but near impossible to keep it really secret when you're travelling with Luna. Glamour's only partially solved things so she scouted and did everything else, treating Luna like a princess. When they eventually met a perimeter guard of Rivendell, Heather left everything to Luna. She had been shoring up her flagging strength by drinking pepper-up every hour.

"What!" she gasped when she saw their ears. They were elves. Merlin, she really was tired if she didn't notice that immediately. Even after all of Aragorn's stories, she didn't realize they were headed towards  _the Rivendell_.

The guard agreed to escort them towards Rivendell and Heather fell back to one of the younger looking elves. "Sir, is Lord Aragorn in Rivendell?" she asked.

The elf looked delighted. "Lord Estel does not stop often in Rivendell. But the Lords Elladan and Elrohir brought news that they left him recently near Weathertop," he answered.

A small bit of anticipation entered Heathers tired mind. "Lord Elrond's twin sons! I have heard stories about them from Lord Aragorn."

The perimeter guard, whose name was Lindel, and Heather chatted towards Rivendell. The first sight of it rendered her speechless.

"Godric's ghost," she muttered under her breath. Somewhere ahead, she heard Luna's exclamation of, "Oh my! How aesthetically designed." It made a bubble of amusement well up in her. What an understatement.

They were ushered inside the large, airy building and into Lord Elrond's study. It was a formal looking place. If he was looking to intimidate people, it was working.

"The messenger said you wished to make a request of me, Lady Eilys?" he asked in his deep and kind voice.

Heather did not listen to him but only watched his every move. He moved like a man who knew his place in the world and was comfortable with it. It made Heather so jealous.

She must have zoned out in-between watching and observing him, because the next thing Elrond was saying was, "There is a sentry outside my door to lead you to your room. I would like to have a moment with your companion."

Wasn't that alarming! And Luna, the traitor, agreed to it quickly.

"What?" Heather gasped.

Elrond pinned her to her seat with his stern eyes. It was nothing like Snape's glares, or Voldemorts glares but it was somewhere in that league too. All he lacked was a manic hatred for her and he would be set.

"I received a letter from my son, Estel," he said calmly. "You might know him as Aragorn, or Strider. He wrote to tell me that you have a gift that you are controlling with difficulty."

He could have phrased it better. The way he said it implied she was incompetent and made her automatically defensive.

"What exactly did Aragorn write?" she asked.

He must have realized what he'd unintentionally done because he actually humored her and quoted from an open letter on his desk. "It is a family gift, she says, but she is frightened of it. Her gift is powerful and if she comes your way, can you advise her on it?"

Bugger!

Heather hunched in on herself, feeling like the worst bitch in the world. A gentle hand touched her shoulder and it took all of her will not to flinch.

"Child, please. He did not tell me what your gift is. And your sister knows something is wrong with you, but she does not know what," he said softly.

Oh Merlin. In a burst, she confessed to him her gift, which was feeling like a curse at the moment. She wasn't aware she was weeping until his gentle, calloused hands caught her tears. The awareness of it brought her to a halt and he covered the awkwardness of it by pouring her a glass of water.

Eventually, she wound up with, "But none of my siblings ever asked for help when their time came. Am I so weak that this happens?"

Elrond must have faced a variation of that question when Aragorn was growing up. A wry grin flitted across his face before it returned to its somber mask. "No, child. Your gift is just so powerful that it needs practice."

Heather composed herself while Elrond studied her. She knew what he was seeing. Extremely colorful hair, red rimmed eyes that streaked dust trails down her cheeks. She was probably a mess.

Elrond saw a different image. He saw a child that was carrying a burden of a gift she did not know to use. By the way she moved, he saw a noble and regal spirit. He also knew that she had a difficult upbringing by the way she craved his touch.

"Your sister has asked to be taught healing," Elrond continued. "And it seems that I will have to teach you how to control your gift as well."

Oh, right. Aragorn did mention that Elrond had the gift of foresight too.

A sudden thought occurred to her and she wondered how long she had been closeted with Elrond. Maybe six hours? The longest she had ever gone without pepper up. And she knew she started shaking if it went for even longer. Her fingers had started to shake two hours ago.

A morbid grin came to Heather's face. "Eilys' first lesson may be a practical one," she said. "I am quite ill."

Elrond did not look alarmed and Heather gave him a point for keeping calm.

"I have felt that," he stated simply. "If you know what is wrong with yourself, the cure may come faster."

Heather tried to stop a laugh, even as the onslaught of the need came over her. The need to drink pepper-up. Merlin, she was really an addict. Draco was never going to trust her with potions again.

"I have not been sleeping for nearly three months," she said bluntly. "Hodur, Eilys' twin, brews potions. He made one that keeps you awake even if you lack sleep. And another one that keeps you from dreaming." She stifled a chuckle as the pull strengthened to a painful stab. "I have been drinking it for as long as I've had no sleep, so my body needs to be weaned from them. The process is quite painful."

Elrond was suddenly all business as he asked for a sample of the potion and its ingredients. Heather gave it to him since it was the few potions that they could make in Arda, with all of its ingredients being a local herb. When it passed the seventh hour, she doubled over coughing and nearly asphyxiated.

* * *

What followed was a haze of fever and coughing. In between that was a lot of vomiting. And someone also kept insisting about letting her drink water when all Heather wanted was to roll over and sleep.

Oh but wait, even in sleep, there was no proper rest.

She was plagued by dreams of moonlight on stone doors, arrows that were held by a blonde elf, dragon fire and a great eye surrounded by a ring of fire.

Heather hated that last bit since it kept returning. And every time she saw it, she broke out screaming.

Distantly, she was aware she was probably worrying a lot of people. She wanted to stop the dreams too but sleeping meant she had no control over it. So she continued to dream and be frightened. Bugger. And she so hated being frightened, right next to being caged.

Someone eventually touched her and took away the dreams. Only then did Heather feel rest for the first time in three months.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, an unfamiliar elf was by her bedside, singing a song softly under his breath.

"You have a beautiful voice," she croaked softly.

The elf looked at her so quickly that it was a surprise he did not get a whiplash, or a crick in the neck. He poured her a cup of water and supported her as she drank it down greedily.

"You've been quite ill," he remarked. "My name is Glorfindel."

She nodded. "Why is my throat bandaged? And my hands tied?" it would have alarmed her to have her hands tied to a bed but she recognized the knots and could have slipped free easily if she was lucid. Luna's doing, she thought.

"Lord Elrond and Lady Eilys said that you were suffering from your visions of the future. It must have been very horrible, because you clawed at your throat and tried to take out your eyes many times," he said. This was stated with a completely clinical curiosity and held not censure, or judgment.

At his words, Heather remembered the lidless eye that had haunted her dreams. She started to get restless and wanted to hold something pointy, preferably her sword but that was out of the question.

"Lord Glorfindel," she said softly since her throat still felt scratchy. "Can you take me outside?"

The elf looked like he wanted to protest but he must have seen the mulish tilt to her chin and he relented. He helped brush out her long hair and tied it with a simple ribbon. His touch was brisk and impersonal but wasn't enough to stop a sudden vision that came to her when his fingers touched her temple.

There was a horse, an evil man and an army that followed him. Heather saw him on board a white boat at sea.

She shuddered as he pulled away. "Lord Glorfindel, please don't touch my skin. That is mostly how my visions come."

"Your pardon, Lady Gryffon," he said. He sounded like he meant it.

He led her outside with her gloved hand on his arm to keep her from falling. She steered them to the practice court where several elves were practicing their sword and their archery. Her legs felt like it couldn't support a marshmallow so anything heavy so she settled for knives since she could still throw. She gravitated towards an elf polishing a set of them.

"May I borrow that?" she asked.

The elf looked to Lord Glorfindel for confirmation and pushed it towards her. She tested its weight in her palm and found it familiar enough that an experimental twirl did not make it fall, or make her wrist twinge with pain.

Spying a target board a couple of yards away, she hefted it and threw. It hit dead center. A surge of accomplishment went over her, even as determination to try another one came.

As she bent to pick up another one, Glorfindel took it away with a stubborn set to his shoulders.

"No, you've just woken up from your illness. Your sister will have my head if I allow you to continue."

The elf that had been listening and watching nearby blanched at that and looked to the target board with awe.

This time, it was Glorfindel that led her to the Dining hall, where Luna and Elrond were having a late lunch. Luna saw her first and stood up with a small, muted scream. The chair she had been sitting on fell backwards with a  _bang!_

That made Heather worried and alarmed. "Just out of curiosity, how long have I been sick?"

A smile appeared on his youthful face. "Half a month, my lady."

Oh Merlin! This meant lectures, even possible howlers if Hermione got carried away by her anger and went for it.

* * *

It turned out that she was Luna's first hands-on patient. And the subject of a lot of visitors since she actually managed to let Draco and Hermione visit Rivendell while unconscious. One of her more surprising visitors was Aragorn. "Truly surprising," Elrond muttered. "Since that child does not like deviating from patrols and duty."

Luna had known she was a trying patient and must have collaborated with Elrond since her bedside was never empty. There was always an elf sitting on the chair, ready to entertain her with songs or stories of epic battles. Having seen her scars and her weapons, the epic battles were the ones told more often. The favorite visitor was Lord Glorfindel since he actually discussed battle tactics with her.

Eventually, the duty roster, as she jokingly called it to Luna's amusement, brought the twins of Rivendell. They looked a lot like their father, with only hints of their mother in the shape of their eyes and the sweep of their hair.

"You got swept in too?" she asked with amusement.

"What do you mean?" one of them asked.

"Eilys knows that if I get bores, I'd probably make my way to the practice court and train. So she probably has a schedule somewhere, a list of visitors to keep me from tearing my hair out," she explained.

They both laughed. "Sounds familiar," Elladan said. "Ada does the same thing for Estel when he gets sick."

"Aha! So it does exist!" she exclaimed, to their laughter.

When she finally got clearance to train, she tracked down her weapons, borrowed a loose shirt and bound her breasts. It was dawn when she started and the practice court was empty. That was better since being watched would make her falter.

She started with bare-handed fighting to better gauge how weak she had gotten during her convalescence. The results had her dismayed, but she pushed through regardless and was soaking by the time she was done. Clearly, a sword would be too much, even for her. So she settled for knife fighting. The end of it had all of her knives dead center in all of the targets.

Even with that, she had a long way to go before she would clear herself for active duty. See, she did have sense, no matter what anybody said!

* * *

Heather ended up staying in Rivendell longer than planned and as such, met the dwarves that Gandalf the Grey was leading on a quest.

"I thought you said there were no wizards?" Heather asked Luna in their home tongue.

"He is not a wizard," Luna said. Her large eyes were watching Gandalf like a hawk. "Their kinds are called Istari. They were sent by the gods of this world to fulfill a mission."

Well that was comforting. A large range of chosen ones.

Then she saw him, a hobbit. He was the size of the dwarves and looked less hardy. There was also a bewildered look in his eyes that meant he kept wondering what he was doing with them.

A familiar pull pressed her and she gritted her teeth against the instinct to push it back. The threads of Destiny were around Bilbo Baggins.

A clattering of hooves broke the spell and the patrol came back. Heather left Luna at nearly a run. Luna followed. Ever since her illness, Luna was loathe to leave her alone.

"Lord Elrond," she interrupted him. "It's there again."

Annoyance drained away from his face and sympathy crossed it. They had discussed her gift and agreed that she would always come to him for help if the need would press her.

"Who does it concern, Lady Gryffon?" he asked.

"The small one. A Halfling," she said.

He nodded. "Then you will dine with us tonight."

The dwarves were rude guests. Even without the gift of foresight, Heather knew the dinner would degenerate into something else rowdy so she took the hobbit away from the main group.

"You're not an elf!" he remarked.

"No, I am not," she said. "But I have to tell you something. You must never trust power when it is offered because power gained by evil means will lead to destruction. Power gained because of hard work will lead to prosperity."

The power of foresight left her for a moment and she swayed. A hand at her elbow steadied her and she found a worried Luna looking at her.

Behind the Halfling, a dwarf was there. He looked towards the both of them with guarded eyes and gestured for Bilbo to return to the dining table.

"You are so full of hatred and distrust," Luna said. Her eyes were sorrowful. "If you do not face that, you will be consumed by it and not live to rule over your vast gold."

"What do you mean?" the dwarf asked in a deep, rough voice.

"Lady Eilys always speaks the truth and Lady Gryffon has the gift of foresight even stronger than mine," Elrond cut in. "If you allow her to touch your skin, she can see your future."

The dwarf promptly took a step away from her.

The Halflings gentle and small voice said, "Can you see my future?" he asked.

Luna gave a sound of distress but Heather had to agree since it was asked in such an innocent manner. Luna relented only if Heather did it sitting down.

A touch and she was plunged into a series of pictures that involves dragons, goblins and golden rings.

When she broke the contact the Halfling was watching her expectantly. She managed a smile. "Yours will never be a dull life."

Heather did not tell anyone that Bilbo would be the catalyst for the eventual recovery of the Dark Lord. Some things happened even if you interfered.

When the passages cleared up from winter, Heather left Rivendell and Luna.


	7. OMAKE

**How a Heather was named Feather**

She tried to hunch lower in her seat when the door slid open with a bang!

A girl's bushy head popped through. "Have you seen a toad anywhere?"

Heather gave a miniscule shake of her head. "No," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

This was all said in a very small voice. The girl with the bushy hair entered the compartment and looked down at Heather. She hunched even lower in her seat. It was instinct.

"My name's Hermione, what's yours?" the girl asked in a friendly way.

A friend! It made Heather look up hesitantly. Maybe she would be nice. "H-heather," she stuttered.

Annoyance crossed Hermione's face. "Excuse me, your name is Feather? What parent would name their child that? Have they no pity? Well, I can't exactly talk, can I since my parents named me after a play."

Then she sat across Heather and went on talking. Heather couldn't exactly correct her when she couldn't get a word in.

* * *

**Meeting Luna Lovegood**

The girl was strange. That was okay. Heather was strange too. She bit back a sob at Ron Weasley's cruel taunt about her being as strange as anything.

"Hello," the girl with the kind eyes said. "My name is Luna Lovegood."

Even her name was pretty.

"Heather," she muttered softly. Because here was someone whose name was a celestial body and hers was a kind of grass.

"Oh, that's nice," Luna said. "Heather's are very inoffensive plants."

A happy warmth spread through her. This girl was a good friend. Hermione was okay, but she was sometimes cruel in her turn of phrase. She had a feeling this girl would not be cruel but merely honest.

"And Luna's are very nice friends," she said. And that was the beginning of a long and lasting friendship.

* * *

**What Elrond thought when he saw his visitors**

What a strange pair, he thought.

Eilys was composed and very blunt. Her accent in Westron was not something he had heard yet and he thought he had heard everything. Gryffon did not speak at all but instead watched him with alarming intensity.

Eventually, Eilys concluded her request with, "you have a very serious face. I think you should smile more often to rid yourself of your age."

He nearly choked. No one commented on that anymore, not even Erestor.

"I beg your pardon?" he said softly.

She nodded. "My siblings and I have lost people very dear to us, but Gryffon keeps us laughing because she says that if we stop, we will join them faster. You too have lost someone, but I don't think she would like it if you age faster."

It felt like a hand was clutching his heart. "She is not dead, Lady Eilys. She sailed to the Undying Lands after she lost her mind, tortured to insanity by orcs."

A shadow passed her face. That surprised him. It was as though she could really feel his grief. "No, I don't suppose you can laugh, but you must find something to live for."

He would have answered but he saw her companion, the Lady Gryffon, sway in her chair. Lady Eilys saw it as well and had an extremely alarmed look on her face.

Compassion swelled in him and he directed a look towards Lady Eilys that said he would take care of Gryffon before she collapsed. "There is a sentry outside my door to lead you to your room. I would like to have a moment with your companion."

* * *

**What Hermione did**

Hermione had known that Heather was hiding something but Heather was different from all of them when she was hiding something. She would bite it and hide it. The confrontation by a wrong person would make her more stubborn. Confrontation done in the wrong way would make her defensive. Dealing with Heather was always difficult.

When Luna brought Heather away with her, Hermione jumped at the chance and borrowed Hafny. It spoke volumes that Heather did not complain since she loved the bloody owl.

"Take this to Aragorn," she told Hafny, fastening a letter around her leg. Hafny gave her an irritated hoot and flew off. She then sagged with relief.

"She won't like it if she finds out, you know," Draco told her as they both watched Hafny become a speck in the sky.

"Then she won't find out," Hermione said flippantly. Then hesitation crossed her. They didn't like asking each other to use their gifts. It felt like cheating on homework. "Draco, how did her soul look like?"

Draco was startled, and then he clenched his fists. "It looked like a flickering candle. She's close to collapsing, Granger. If she wasn't Potter, we wouldn't have to do this." Then he directed a grin at her and it still surprises Hermione that Draco Malfoy would direct that look to her. "I heard her chew you out. Both of you are hypocrites, you know that?"

* * *

**What Hermione wrote to Aragorn**

_Dear Sir,_

_I know we aren't properly introduced, but I am Gryffon's cousin. She doesn't mention me much because we have not seen each other in recent years, but last week, I saw her with her siblings and she looked on the verge of collapsing._

_Gryffon is not saying anything, and it is worrying the twins. Eilys is headed towards Rivendell because she wishes to learn healing from the best healer in all of Arda. Hodur mentioned that you might manage to ask a favor of the Lord of Rivendell to intercede for us. Since he is a healer, he might know what to do with her stubbornness._

_Cordially,_

_**Enid** _

* * *

**What Aragorn wrote to Elrond**

_Ada,_

_I know this is new, but I will tell you all about it when my next patrol allows it._

_A friend is passing there soon. Her name is Gryffon. Her cousin wrote to me and expressed concerns towards her health. They do not know what is wrong. I do not think she told what remains of her family, so it is not my place to tell you either._

_What I can say is that she has received a family gift. She does not say it but she is frightened by it. Her gift is powerful and when she comes your way, can you advise her on it?_

_All my affection,_

_**Estel** _


	8. Heirs and Havens

It took a week before Draco and Hermione managed to hunt her down. It honestly surprised Heather that it took them so long. It made her chuckle, though she covered it with a cough, to realize that her friends-turned-relatives was still applying the things they did back in their world, for sick people in particular the sick and stupid kind.

The requirement was to send flowers and a howler, or visit, hug and then lecture. Since howlers were rather a dead give-away that they came from another world, they picked the second choice.

So Heather gave the innkeeper a gold coin and asked for a private room the moment she saw the telltale black blindfold and the mass of ringlets.

"Let me have it," she said.

That was the cue for Hermione to launch into a long and shrieking lecture about her utter stupidity, her recklessness and her complete disregard for how the rest of them would feel when they saw her, near-comatose and muttering prophecies in high Latin.

"And you're lucky that none of the elves even speak Latin!" she wound up. And then she sat down, panting.

Heather arched an eyebrow. "Feel better?" she asked.

Hermione nodded. Draco then stood up. "I don't," he said. Then he launched into his own impressive lecture. It made a bigger impact than Hermione's because he spoke in a reasonable tone and berated her intelligence, her reasoning and her stupid pride. Once or twice, he managed to make her wince. He probably took pointers from Snape's own mutters about her.

When he finished, he surprised both girls by hugging the daylights out of her. Hermione, after her initial surprise, was quick to join the pile.

"We're staying with you," Hermione said firmly and Draco did not say anything to refute her statement. Heather allowed it because the last time they had seen her, she was so ill that she could not wake herself up. They seemed to want to reassure themselves that she was alive.

They spent two days in the inn, going over their building plans for Luna's school, because while Luna was really great, her organizing skills needed a lot of work. Draco then added that if he was to brew potions, he would eventually take on apprentices. That made them add another wing.

And then, all of a sudden, an idea occurred to Heather.

"Why don't we just make our own town while we're at it?" she asked.

This set off another round of debate and more parchment produced to accommodate their plans.

But it took the Blood wards falling for them to actually act on it.

All three of them doubled up and clutched their hearts, hunching inwards while they gasped for breath. This was the reason why Blood wards were rarely used.

But the point was something had intentionally broken it. They had wanted to awaken the slumbering darkness. Whoever that was didn't have kind intentions to the people in the continent. Heather's precognition acted up just as the pain and the breathlessness faded away. It made her see an army made up of thousands of orcs and goblins. She hadn't exactly seen orcs yet, but the Dúnedain had told her enough stories about it to be sure of it.

"What was it?" they asked.

Heather took a deep breath. "An army. Marching against dwarves and men. There are elves there too."

Hermione moved to apparate and Draco caught her. "No!" he cried. "Stop it, Hermione!" it was the surprise that Draco had actually called her by her given name that stopped her.

"Draco's right," Heather said as she straightened up in her chair, wincing as she did so. "Whoever broke the wards was very powerful and as we are, only the two of you are capable of magical combat. I'm not crazy enough to fight when my magic is still recovering, and Luna cannot watch death with a cold mask. She bloody well  _hears_  the soul scream!"

"So what do we bloody do?" Hermione demanded. She was so pissed off that she had resorted to foul language. "Are we just going to sit and twirl our thumbs?"

"Fuck no!" Draco protested. He looked repulsed by the idea.

Heather nodded in agreement. "Those people can handle themselves. Let's focus on something else. My sight tells me that safe-havens are important right now. Rivendell is a safe-haven. Let's make another one. Let's start with this." She tapped the parchments they had been working on for two days straight. "Meanwhile, we have to think of Luna."

They left the reassurance of Luna to Draco. Heather and Hermione chose an area in the wilderness, close enough to a forest and near a gurgling river. Heather drove her sword in a large rock on the ground and set to work.

* * *

Making the start of a village was loads different from building the house that they eventually called Sanctuary. But with Kreacher's help, they were able to make headway in a week. In the middle of it, Draco returned with news from Luna, saying that she would finish her apprenticeship in six months.

In the second week, they had finished the wards. Upon entry into the village proper, one would feel the absolute certainty that one was safe. With Draco's help, they also imbedded runes deep into the earth around the perimeter of the village to keep darkness away.

Their first citizen, aside from each other, was an orphaned boy. Hermione brought him back with her, along with the supplies she had gone to a town to collect. She was sheepish while Draco muttered about the trouble of housing children, but Heather had seen the compassionate gleam to his eyes and did not call him out on it.

The child was named Ellas, and after some hesitation and wariness, helped out in the building.

This set the theme for their citizens. They arrived alone or by groups, desperate and looking for a new start. Some of them were so destitute that a roof over their heads and three meals a day was paradise.

Hermione broke down crying one night; in the little house they built in their new city to replicate the Sanctuary.

"I can't help it," she whispered. "I wish we could have done this for our world as well."

Draco sniffed condescendingly. "These people want to be helped, Granger. Our world was near hopeless. They were happy in their helplessness."

Heather visibly agreed with Draco but secretly mourned for their old world as well. But that was remedied through working for their new home, so that it would not degenerate into the near ruin they had left behind.

* * *

The Sword of Gryffindor, which she had driven through a stone, was made into the center of the city. She used it to look for the next heir of the Gryffindor, since only the heirs of Gryffindor could hold, and wield the sword. So far, all the orphans could not come within a foot of it.

Draco had called the endeavor as useless, saying that no one would be as prideful or as reckless as her. He was proven wrong within another month, when the children found another orphan, beaten near death and left near the edge of the dirt path.

Heather had flashbacks about the beatings she had received from her own uncle. When all the other people had given up on the boy, including Draco, she took him on and never gave up. There were close calls when he suddenly stopped breathing but Heather gave him her blood and a bit of her magic to keep his magic tied to his body.

When the boy finally regained consciousness, Heather nearly fainted from the shock when he blinked sleepy green eyes at her. She wasn't vain enough to think that she was the only one in all of Arda with green eyes, but that exact shade was something she saw in the mirror every morning.

"Who are you?" he croaked.

Okay, the explanations were going to be awkward.

She told it to him as bluntly as possible, stating all the pertinent facts and leaving nothing out. Hermione had compared the method to ripping off a band-aid quickly and neatly.

Either way, the boy appreciated it by the way his eyes didn't shutter down to blankness. Heather was familiar with that, knowing that your emotions made you vulnerable to the one who hated you. The fact that he was showing her his emotions meant he trusted her…in a very teensy tiny amount.

"What's your name?" she asked. When he hesitated, Heather continued as though she had not noticed his hesitation. "My friends call me Gryffon"

He twitched. He had noticed her use of the word 'call' instead of saying that her name was Gryffon. Then he turned his eyes, her eyes back at her and said, "Can you call me a name?"

Oh, how Heather understood! Her heart throbbed.

"Guiomer," she said. "That is the name I would have chosen if I had been born a boy."

The child smiled, testing the name on his tongue. Then he turned to her. "Thank you."

Was this how parents felt, she asked herself as she enveloped the boy in a hug, Or maybe how Remus and Sirius felt when they saw me in my Third year.

* * *

Guiomer did not try the sword of Gryffindor until he had stayed for a week. Heather did not think to let him try; she was too confused, worried and busy to let him try. She still had to consult her siblings' on why Guiomer had her eyes, when she was sure he was brown-eyed before.

But it happened and Guiomer's hand closed around the bejeweled handle of the sword and a large cheer went up from the children who were all watching him try it. The noise stopped the adults from their own pursuits and they also watched in shock as Guiomer eventually pulled the sword free.

They had known that one of the town's founders was looking for an heir through the sword so to see it happen was actually historical. There was a silence, and then Heather herself broke it by clapping and cheering loudly. The others followed and then mobbed Guiomer.

Draco, who was beside her as they worked on a plan for a public library, looked amused. "Potter, did you brainwash the kid when you cured him?"

Hermione swatted him. "Shut up Malfoy! This is a happy event," then she sighed. "I'm just jealous that I left the diadem at home. It would be nice to have my own heir and apprentice."

Before any of them could say anything about that, Hermione straightened like one electrocuted. "Salazar's Pants!" she shrieked and then darted away, leaving the two of them blinking in her metaphorical dust trails.

The cheering sound stopped and made them look to where they had last seen Guiomer. He was holding the sword formally across his hand and was carrying it towards her. He was flushed and his eyes had a look of vaguely concealed panic. He then knelt and presented the sword to her.

Slowly, because she was feeling like she had fallen through a story book, Heather stood up and unbuckled her sword belt, which had the empty scabbard. She took the sword and nicked Guiomer in the thumb before sheathing it with a  _thunk!_  Then she made him stand and tied the belt around his waist.

He stumbled at the weight and she kept him steady with both hands on his shoulder. She kissed his forehead and beamed. "Guiomer, the sword of Gryffindor, of my ancestor, has always chosen those who carried it. Do you accept the burden of this gift?"

Despite the fact that he looked panicked and was probably confused out of his mind, Guiomer managed a smile. "I will, Lady Gryffon. I accept the burden and bear it proudly."

That made all of the people cheer again. There was no resentment, or anger. All of them had seen the shadows that drove her to fight. They appreciated her will and none of them wanted to be in her shoes.

Draco then laughed as the townspeople abandoned their building projects and carted Guiomer off for some impromptu celebration. "You are bloody well starting a competition," he said.

"What do you mean?" Heather asked.

He sent her a challenging grin. "I'm not settling till I find my own apprentice, Potter. I don't think any of the others will. Well, not Lovegood. That one is as unpredictable as they come."

Heather groaned, but her actions gave that part of the city a name. It was called 'The Choosing Square' for years to come until people forgot why they called it that. It still had myths and legends tied to it though.

* * *

Luna's apprenticeship ended and all three of them were there to greet her when she arrived on horseback.

Luna's silvery grey eyes had unfocused when she crossed the wards and then she smiled at Hermione. "You've recreated the wards of Hogwarts. Thank you, Hermione, for making it feel like home." How she knew that Hermione had been the one to set the wards was a mystery since Draco and Heather were just as capable with Ancient Runes.

The four of them wandered the city, introducing Luna to the sights and buildings and then introducing her to the people. They all bowed (how that came about, Heather had no idea) and took note of their founder's happiness. They then bowed to Luna too.

And then she met Guiomer. She saw the green eyes and the sword belt that held the sword of Gryffindor, which the twelve year old was holding awkwardly with his hand. Luna's eyes went wide and her mouth turned to a perfect 'O'. Then she looked to Heather. "You blood adopted him! You are a genius, Feather!"

Heather gave an undignified squeak that resembled a "what?" while Draco roared with laughter and Hermione started firing off questions.

Heather stopped the ruckus with a sharp gesture. "What the bloody hell does that mean, moonbeam?" she asked.

Luna beamed at the confused Guiomer. "That means he is your son in all ways that matter."

That bloody well didn't explain anything.

"What it means," Draco cut in. "Is that the brat has your magic."

Heather would forever deny that she had momentarily swayed with the onslaught of feelings. The happiness, the worry and the melancholy all rolled into one.

"Are you alright?" they asked her. But Heather's eyes focused on Guiomer and she swung him around, pressing kisses to his face despite his protests.

Late that night, when the whole town was sleeping and only a select few were being drunkards, the four of them took Guiomer to the Sanctuary and swore him to the truth. Heather dithered until Draco reluctantly dosed her with a calming draught. (They were wary of letting her drink potions ever since the incident. Bugger!) But her worry was groundless, because Guiomer's only response was, "Well, my name was Renac."

* * *

It took another year before any of them noticed anything, but that was understandable since all of them kept each other fairly busy. Hermione's goal for the first five years was to reduce illiteracy. With the number of stubborn, retired old soldiers they had that had opted to be Training Masters, that was quite a feat. Soldiers didn't like reading anyway, they said. But they found no help in Heather since she put literacy as one of the requirements for teaching the sword.

The schools for children were all full with the children actually eager to learn since no one but the nobles were taught reading. Hermione had to tutor the older ones in her spare time. She was horrified at the number of older students she had and had roped in the others. They had the whole city in the Library and Draco all but announced a National Library Day.

Luna had heard of what Heather did about finding an apprentice. She had flushed and muttered about being jealous. Next thing they knew, she had turned the whole hospital into a sentient thing with the amount of magic in it. It would only allow entry to those who wanted to serve. Then she had also curtained an area that would only allow entry to one whose heart was compatible with her own.

Heather groaned and Draco laughed, even as he stated something about it being a competition. Draco had followed Luna's example anyway and resolutely ignored heather when she choked down the word, "Twins!"

Hermione's methods were simpler and subtler. She had simply placed a book on a book stand. The one who would notice it would be her apprentice because only a hunger to learn would allow one to see the book.

Out of the four of them, only Draco and Heather had found theirs.

But still, it was really reasonable that it took them a year to notice that they had stopped ageing.

It quite panicked all of them, even Luna, since not one understood why. Draco had decided to be logical for once and performed quick tests on their blood and found that it was a complete and total freeze.

"Our bodies are simply existing," he said. "But it has completely stopped its decomposition." When an 'eew' look crossed Heathers face, he elaborated. "All human decomposes daily, Potter and that decomposition leads to eventual death. But this, it's like death doesn't want us."

At the word 'Death', Heather stiffened. Luna observed this and understood immediately that Heather had something to do with it.

"Feather, please share it with us," she said.

Heather told it in halting and soft words because the implications had just occurred to her. If they had not done the ritual, Heather would have spent ages by herself. But the Veil of Death had shared her blood and amplified the consequences.

Heather ended it with a whispered, "I'm sorry."

That made the girls move and Draco, after some hesitation, joined them in a major pile-up.

"You've just become as cursed as I am," Heather muttered.

"Hell yes," Draco agreed and then continued before Hermione or Luna could punch him. "I'm going to be cursed to spend eternity with women!"

That made Heather stop crying and start laughing. If it was a tad bit hysterical, nobody called her out on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ritual Ingredients:
> 
> The Corpse of Evil – Voldemort's body  
> Purpose: Balanced the ritual; Power behind the Ritual  
> Unintended Effect: Enhanced the physical changes and their physical features, because no matter what you lot say, Tom Riddle was still a handsome bastard,
> 
> The Heart of Bitterness – Rita Skeeter's heart  
> Purpose: Chose the world  
> Unintended Effect: Catalyst for the internal change
> 
> The Bones of Loyalty – Vincent Crabbe's bones  
> Purpose: Anchored and steadied the Ritual  
> Unintended Effect: Interacted with the Heart and became a catalyst for the Physical Changes.
> 
> The Blood of Rebirth – Heather's blood  
> Purpose: Balanced the Ritual; Power behind the Ritual  
> Unintended Effect: Gave all of them Immortality


	9. Planning

Heather smirked while she listened to the rising argument in the corner where Hermione was cataloguing scrolls and Draco was pre-slicing ingredients.

"I bloody will!" Hermione was shrieking.

Heather felt her eyebrows rising. Hermione had resorted to foul language, which meant curses will be traded if no one interfered soon. Luna must have guessed the same thing because she stopped grooming Fenny.

"If you really want to know, Hermione, you can always ask feather," she said. It was said quietly but it still caught both of their attention. Heather always wondered how she did it.

That shut both of them up.

"Err, feather? Can you?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Just to make her sweat, Heather feigned ignorance. "Can I what, Hermione?" Behind her, Heather could see Draco grinning.

"Can you be a good friend and tell me when I will get my apprentice?" Hermione ground out.

Heather coughed to hide her laughter. "Certainly, Hermione. Your hand, please?" she requested even as she removed the long gloves she always wore to shield her skin.

Upon contact, she was immediately assaulted by disjointed images of Hermione's future. After some disorientation, she quickly sorted through it, skimming across the images quickly. Flick-flick-flick! And then a picture of a small girl with large brown eyes was staring at the book Hermione had used as a selection.

She surfaced with a shudder, shaking herself like a wet dog to clear her mind.

"Well?" Hermione demanded.

Luna frowned and Draco kicked Hermione in the shins for her. Hermione then realized her mistake and winced. "Sorry feather. Take your time," she said contritely.

A deep breath cleared the small headache. "Well," Heather said. "You definitely will have an apprentice. And she's quite small."

"When?" she asked.

A brief bout of concentration brought her the answer. "Err, within another two years, I suppose. It's in that time frame."

Hermione groaned and tossed Draco a gold coin. He laughed as he pocketed it. Heather laughed too, because while the argument was loud, only the last part was loud enough for all of them to hear. To know that it was about a bet again clarified things.

"Mione, you should stop betting with Draco," Luna said. "If you don't, you'll eventually bet something you will regret."

That made Hermione scowl but she nodded. Hermione tended to listen to Luna's advices.

"What are the three of you doing here anyway?" she demanded. "I'm duplicating scrolls and need the privacy, but what about you three?"

Hermione's question was valid. It was rare for all four of them to be in the Sanctuary at the same time and rarer still to leave Kreacher in the town with strict instructions to fetch them in case of an emergency.

"I'm escaping from my apprentices, at the moment," Luna said bluntly. "I am teaching them patience."

Heather could relate to that and sympathize since Luna's apprentices were twin boys. One of them had an acidic tongue, and the other had an apathetic attitude towards people. But let them see a sick person and suddenly, they were all business.

"A practical lesson?" Draco asked.

Luna nodded. "I am letting them hem and stitch all the apprentice robes in the hospital. It's the first step to sewing human skin."

Draco turned green and seemed to be regretting his question. Heather wasn't squeamish and laughed at his face.

"And you?" Hermione asked Draco. "You can't be escaping from your apprentice too."

Silence means yes, apparently, since Draco smirked at the affronted look on Hermione's face.

"And what are you letting her do?" Heather asked, thoroughly entertained by the line of questioning that was going on. She was only slightly guilty since Meiran, Draco's apprentice, was a gentle thing that used to break down crying at Draco's every snarl at her mistakes. It only took two weeks for the girl to start snarling back. It made Heather's heart warm, thinking about it.

"I have her memorizing all the ingredients per color, texture and scent," he said. "She has until tomorrow to finish it."

Merlin! Even Luna looked concerned at that.

"Draco, isn't that taking it a bit far?" Hermione asked.

He rolled his eyes, used to the fact that his sisters had a soft spot for his demon of an apprentice. "She started two days ago. She only started whining about it to me today, so I came here."

"At the least, you aren't letting her taste it, right?" Luna asked. She was in her healer mode, silvery grey eyes focused on Draco seriously.

"Oh, hell no!" Draco assured her. "I am only letting her taste it when I'm around. The idiot might actually try out the more poisonous ingredients."

That made Heather snicker, thinking that it was something Meiran would do. The girl was extremely literal and followed instructions to the letter.

Hermione interrupted Heathers amusement. "What about you, feather? You actually like Guiomer, so you can't be escaping him too."

Heather grinned. "Oh, no. I'm here to do absolutely nothing for a day. Guiomer took my place in the border patrol. The brat was eager to do it."

That made the three of them give her dirty looks tinged with a small bit of envy. Her apprentice was the only one that was easy to get along with.

"Buggering Potter luck!" Draco muttered.

Heather laughed at him again. "Meiran's bitchiness is your fault. If you didn't keep barking at her, none of this would be happening."

"Right, because I would have murdered her! Mean is better than weepy," he replied. "She could give Parkinson a run for her money."

They spent most of the day helping Hermione in increasing the scrolls and books. Heather did the Transfiguration, Luna the Duplication and Draco the extra tweaks that made the books and scrolls more beautiful. Hermione placed the charms that protected it from fire, dust and water.

When they finished early and were wondering what else to do, Luna spoke up.

"I'm thinking of making an Order of Healing," she said.

Hermione produced parchment while Heather tossed her the pot and quill. "Yeah?" Draco asked.

"There are places where there are no healers. And some places where healing is a commodity," Luna explained. "Out of all of you, I have travelled through Arda the most. I want to make an Order whose oath is to serve and heal everyone they can."

Heather could see a ton of problems that would crop up with that, and so could Hermione, by the way the quill was racing across the parchment.

"They'll need to learn fighting," Heather said.

"Feather – "

"No, Luna!" she said firmly. "You can't imagine the difficulties your healers will have if they don't know how to protect themselves."

She acquiesced reluctantly.

"They'll have to be literate," Hermione butt in. "Have a proficiency in self-defense and healing. Looks like we'll have to be working on this."

"They'll have to know potions too," Draco muttered. "They can't rely on the brewers. If they're travelling the continent, then they'll have to be self-sufficient."

"This'll take years!" Hermione remarked. "Four or five years."

Hermione tossed Heather and Draco sheaves of parchment. She left Luna out of it since Luna was really atrocious at organizing things. All of them knew that, really.

Heather started on the people she would pick out to teach self-defense. They would have to be stern with an underlying compassion to offset that. Luna's healers tended to be really soft marshmallows. The list was surprisingly small and Heather then had to fill in the vacant positions they left with other people. She felt like she was doing a minor round robin with her men. Then, she had to create the schedules for those she had selected.

She calculated the number of months it would take and added in the lessons the Dúnedain had taught her (which she would personally teach since no one had asked for those lessons and as such, no one else could teach it but her). It would take eight months, give or take.

"How long is your program?" she asked Draco.

He was scowling at the parchment. "I'm condensing it as much as possible. This is really going to take a long time. The potions course itself would be a year."

Hermione then stopped writing, a troubled expression on her face. "Oh! This Order thing. Are we going to do this in the hospital or make a new building?"

That made all of them stop writing. Luna returned from the kitchen carrying cider and pie, just in time to hear Hermione's comment.

"That's going to be troubling," Luna said as she set down the tray on the table. "Would that mean the healers we have in the hospital will be discriminated against? Or will that cause dissent in their ranks?"

Luna's words caused Heather's foresight to activate and she saw a divided town, if they separated the hospital from the Order. The vision was quick enough that none of her siblings noticed it.

"We won't separate it," Heather said quickly. "We might have to expand the hospital but that's just to add the extra teaching rooms. You'll have to emphasize to them though that the only difference will be the potions requirement and the constant travelling."

"Why not make potions a requirement, though?" Draco cut in. "Potter did it, making literacy a requirement for teaching. Let's make potions a requirement for healing."

They all settled down again, the only sound was of quills scratching on parchment. Heather finished ahead of all of them and was polishing off her pie, when she suddenly said, "Blue robes."

Draco flinched at the sudden sound and poked a hole through the parchment. "Damn it, Potter," he swore.

Hermione only threw a spare parchment at him and looked to Heather with interest. "Yes, feather?"

"I mean, think about it," Heather started. "The Death Eaters had the Dark Mark as their insignia and Nagini as their mascot."

Draco crushed his quill and said a very naughty word that made Heather blush and Hermione gasp. Luna cocked her head to the side and said, "Draco, if you're upset, don't say that. It gives women the wrong impression."

Heather groaned and buried her head in her hands, topic completely forgotten. Her embarrassment was very strong because only Luna can take naughty swear words at face value. Hermione was in the same position, the ink of the quill dripping from her fingers to her mass of ringlets.

The girls couldn't see Draco take Luna to the side and lecture her strictly about swear words, general naughtiness and the human body. When the embarrassment receded, Heather and Hermione looked up to see Draco calmly polishing off his own pie and sipping his cider like a damn pureblood. Luna was sitting to his side looking shell-shocked and a bit scarred.

"What did you do to Luna?" Hermione asked.

"I just told her about the human body," Draco said with a serene smile that had Heather very suspicious. Years of rivalry had rendered her very familiar with Draco's smiles and this one was the smile he got when he had successfully destroyed someone's day…or week.

"Draco," Hermione stated slowly, because she had no idea what was going on, unlike Heather. "Luna is a healer. She probably knows about the human body. Maybe more than you do."

Heather wanted to groan at sweet, naïve Hermione. She was only giving Draco more ammunition. Heather knew he hadn't baited anyone in a month.

"Oh, she doesn't," Draco said. "She knows about the male body but she doesn't know what we do with our – "

Heather couldn't help it and dived across the table, narrowly missing the cider and the pies and squashing Hermione's piles of parchment to clap a hand over Draco's mouth. Hermione was blushing, having realized too late what the topic really was about and Luna was shuddering.

"Stop it, please," Heather pleaded. "I need to  _scourgify_  my brain!"

Draco winked at her and Heather realized that this was revenge for bringing up the Death Eaters.

Heather shuddered. "I'm sorry for bringing up the Death Eaters, okay? I'll use a different example. Buggering figs!"

It took a while to regain her composure. By then she had completely forgotten what had made her bring up the Death Eaters.

"Matches and jerks," Heather sighed. "What in the world was I talking about anyway?"

Hermione screwed up her face, nose scrunched up in concentration. "Something about organizations, mascots and insignia's"

That triggered it. Heather really loved Hermione's newly improved memory. It was like having a handy recorder.

"Of course! I mean, the order of the Phoenix had Fawkes as a symbol or something. Most organizations have something to represent them and some kind of uniform that makes the world identify them easily."

Luna held up a parchment. "Like this?" she asked.

It was an owl in flight with two crossed swords under it. It was ringed by evergreen leaves. The owl looked a lot like Hafny. There was also a remarkable depiction of Fenny the Fox outside the evergreen. It looked like a doodle, which was understandable since it was a spare bit of parchment, but since this was Luna, Heather had to be sure.

"Err, Luna?" Heather said tentatively. "I agree with that, but can we not add in Fenny? He kinda unnerves most people so it would be detrimental to healing."

Luna pouted but crossed out Fenny. Heather felt ridiculous when relief flooded through her.


	10. Commerce and Inheritance

When Guiomer turned seventeen, the full effects of the accidental Blood Adoption showed.

It started with the little things, like how he could nearly match Heather with the sword, and how he suddenly knew what day to bring a windbreaker. But it started to get really obvious when Guiomer had blue, indigo and purple shot through in his hair.

Guiomer hadn't noticed it and had greeted his pseudo-mother with affection. Luna was the first to notice it and her eyes had turned impossible wide. Draco, annoyed at Luna's lack of attention, tried to see what occupied her and froze at the sight of Guiomers hair. Draco then elbowed Hermione, who gaped, and then kicked Heather in the shins.

"Oh, bugger!" Heather muttered, having spilled her soup. Then she looked up and finally noticed the state of affairs.

"By all that's magic," Guiomer finally said. (He had picked up some phrases from them.) "What are you staring at?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Guiomer, dear? You might want to try the looking-glass by the kitchen."

Guiomer gave a very put-upon sigh and stood up, clearly humoring them. He finally did find out why they were looking at him with surprise, shock and no small bit of trepidation.

"Alright," he said after taking several calming breaths. "Any of you lot want to explain why my hair looks like my lady mothers?"

The four of them exchanged glances.

"It didn't show immediately," Heather said.

"No it didn't," Luna concurred. "He's just reached his magical maturity."

Understanding dawned on all of their faces.

"Full effects?" Heather asked.

"Maybe watered down," Hermione answered. "He's only adopted. Draco ought to check it later if he also got the effect of the hallows."

"I'll do it later," Draco agreed.

Guiomer was too well mannered to stomp his foot, but he looked close to doing it, as well as lose his temper. "Guys!" he finally exclaimed. "A little help here? And maybe some less cryptic statements for people who can't read each other's minds or something."

Hermione glanced at Heather and saw the lurking mischief in her eyes and decided to take pity on Guiomer.

"What it means," she said. "Is that you will be receiving your inheritance that comes with being blood adopted by Gryffon. It is probably not at its full strength since you aren't her blood son, but you will have her speed and, apparently, the hair."

Heather sighed mournfully at the reminder, commemorating her lost black hair. She glanced at the single braid that hung nearly to the floor with disdain. It was all the shades of a rainbow and was surprisingly bright instead of mud-colored…which didn't make sense. Heather had remembered playing with colors at a young age and knew that if you dumped all the colors together, it came out as mud.

"Is that why I can suddenly guess very accurately some things? Like when it will rain?" Guiomer asked, breaking into Heather's musings.

That removed all of her plans of mischief. She looked at him so fast that she nearly got a crick in the neck.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

"I can guess things. And I have these sort of feelings that don't really make sense. Like, just yesterday, I felt like I had to help old lady Hellas in carrying her bags and she gave ma gold coin in return," he tapered off, looking sheepish.

Heather felt like she'd just cursed her adopted son. She remembered her difficulties in controlling and it and even now, her sight often came unbidden, which was why she had refrained from hunting dark creatures alone.

Underneath the table, she felt Luna take hold of her hand and squeeze, while her other hand was enveloped by Hermione's warm ones. Across the table, Draco patted her foot with his own.

That gave her strength. She took a deep breath. "Guiomer, pack your bags for two weeks travel. We're going to the elves."

The confused and rarely moody teenager went back to his room, stomping and complaining the entire way.

"Don't forget the sword!" Luna called out. "And some clean nightwear!"

There was a thud of something really heavy hitting the floor, and then Guiomers muffled voice filtered back to them, saying, "That's bloody embarrassing!"

Hermione sighed and gave Heather a pointed look. "Really, feather?"

"What?"

"Have you been cursing in front of Guiomer?"

Heather looked embarrassed for a moment and then she said, "I refuse to answer that on the grounds of being incriminated."

"Feather!"

The journey to Rivendell usually took two weeks. Heather knew that she could have apparated them, bags and all, but she missed the fighting and the freedom of the wilderness.

If Guiomer had complained, she would have shortened the journey by magic, but Guiomer was as much of a survival nut as she was. Probably why the sword chose him anyway.

The dark creatures they encountered had no chance, not with Guiomers inherited speed. The sword was a blur in his hands and Hafny was often disgruntled with the both of them since they left her no enemies to kill.

When they finally were only a day's travel from Rivendell, Guiomers curiosity finally erupted.

"I know you don't mean to be so secretive," he started. "But why are we going to the elves?"

Heather, who was picking burs out of the horses tails, paused. "You don't understand my fear for you, child. When I reached my magical maturity, the gift came slowly and gradually. But still, it was too powerful and I nearly died with how ill I became. Only one man was able to help me and I am taking you to him."

Guimers understanding of the situation suddenly made him nervous. He looked at her withfrightened eyes. "Will you stay with me?" he asked.

"I cannot make promises," she said. "But you have no need to be frightened about the elves. I have always thought of your well-being, and I have never lied to you."

That reassured him and the rest of the journey passed in silence.

* * *

The elves, apparently had great memories because Lord Elrond did not need to be reminded on who she was. Instead, he inclined his head in greeting and gave Guiomer a curios look.

"Lady Gryffon," he greeted. "You returned."

She blushed, remembering her abrupt departure. "Ah, well. There was a need to. My son has the same gift."

He transferred his hazel gaze to Guiomer, who was trying hard not to fidget.

"I will try to help him. It is just starting?" he queried. He sounded like he was diagnosing an illness. Heather pushed Guiomer in front of her to answer the questions. The child was suddenly affected by shyness. Heather had no idea why.

"Lady Gryffon," Elrond said, suddenly directing his attention to her. "It might be advisable if you leave your son with me."

Heather wanted to protest since Guiomer had suddenly latched on to her hand. Merlin! He hadn't relied on her so blatantly, not since he started taking over her border patrols with the men. It made her heart throb.

"He has to learn how to control it by himself," Elrond insisted when she opened her mouth to say her protests.

When Guiomers hand trembled in hers, she ignored Elrond and placed a hand around his shoulders. He was taller than her already and it made Heather a bit tearful.

"Don't worry," she told him in Latin, because whispering in Westron was useless, not with an elf in the room. "I am leaving Hafny with you."

"Mater," he protested. "Hafny will be unhappy."

"Hafny will understand," she said firmly. "You are more important."

Guiomer shuddered. "Then bring the sword with you. I know it makes you stronger and faster. Please? For my state of mind."

She agreed and accepted the sword as he unhooked it from his belt. "I will fetch you when Lord Elrond says so," she said, switching back to Westron. "Send Hafny."

Lord Elrond was at a discreet distance, examining a flowerpot and trying not to listen, to give them some semblance of privacy. When she approached him, he looked at her with a sad smile.

"He is your first?" he asked. She nodded and he continued, "I will take care of him as though he is my own son."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Be careful with him. I am all he has, and he has relied on me for a long time. I have never left him alone."

She moved to leave, then Elrond called, "That language you spoke, it wasn't anything I have ever heard in Arda."

Heather gave him a cheeky grin, "Of course not! You haven't been travelling in Arda for a while, and new ones get invented all the time."

It wasn't a lie. Latin was being taught among the many languages in Hermione's school. It wasn't useful, but it was being used as code among the healers, along with some mixed Greek, which was the language more selectively taught.

Elrond, a bit familiar with her mischief, looked on the verge of rolling his eyes.

* * *

Heather was moody and irritable at Guiomers departure. The others knew to avoid her, and her temper. The apprentices, who often crossed paths with her on errands, were not so fortunate.

Meiran was a welcome distraction since she traded barbed words right back. Phobos merely ignored her snarls and Deimos incited Heathers temper to worse levels. The only one with a remote chance of calming her down was Hermione's apprentice. Tiny Felicia treated Heather with a firmness that was reminiscent of Luna and Hermione and an underlying compassion that was absent in both.

"You've got to stop terrorizing the cavalry," Draco commented eventually. "Meiran has become unbearable."

Heather muttered even more and finally solved the problem by high-tailing out of town.

Incidentally, this coincided with the leaving of the first of the Order. Heather then decided to accompany them, her bad mood quickly dissipating at the thought of travelling.

One of the healers was Ellas. He looked happy and splendid in the indiscriminate gray of the Journeyman healer. The standard weapon if the healers were the thick blue arm guards that doubled up as holsters. It could hold knives or poisoned needles, whatever the situation called for. The thick, ordinary looking boots hid a metal toe that would really hurt to be the receiving end of. Heather knew, since she tried.

"Ellas!" Heather remarked when she finally remembered the orphans name. "How is the healer business doing for you?"

"Lady Gryffon," he started, then he saw her stern stare and relented. "Gryffon, the vocation that Lady Eilys started is wonderful. In my old village, the one I saw in before Haven, people got sick often and tried remedies that often made it worse. So this is my dream and it is because of Haven and the Lady Eilys that it came to pass."

She gave a happy sigh at his words. It was people like Ellas that made Haven a beautiful town. It made all their pain worth it, to hear words like that.

Heather then gave a smile of mischief. "Alright, in regards to the program we made, give me your comments, all of them."

Ellas was astonished at first, and then he started, "Lady Eilys is wonderful ,really, but her apprentices are such bastards!" he said passionately. "I mean, I only had one bones misplaced, then Deimos starts calling it the wrong end of a mad painters' brush!"

The other healers made sounds of agreement and Heather laughed. "Yeah? Phobos and Deimos are your only complaints?"

One of the healers – there were five of them – piped up, "One of your Training Master is a hard-nosed bastard."

Since Heather generally thought of that in regards to her own men, she wasn't offended and instead encouraged them. "Really? Which one?"

"Hama," was the answer. "He kept picking on me."

All of them laughed at the tone. "Truly?" she chuckled. "That meant he liked you. He did the same to me."

The rest of the trip passed like that until they reached the nearest town. Heather gleaned several funny moments in their training, like when Ellas mistakenly placed the wrong bones in the human body. Apparently, anatomy was his worst subject. There were ales of pranks done to the Training Masters as well. It was starting to become a sort of tradition to at least do one prank before attaining journeyman status.

But for all that they spoke of things fondly, some complaints were genuine, like an incompetent instructor and a subject they would have wanted to be discussed at further length.

Upon reaching the town, Heather took charge and directed them to the inn.

"I'll tell you a secret," she told them seriously. "Innkeepers are the most unbelievable gossips. If you want people to know about the Order, you better start with the one we have downstairs."

They took her advice seriously and drew lots with a bit of strange signals that Heather knew was taught amongst healers. Eventually, Ellas threw his hands in the air and relented.

"I'll do it," he sighed. "But the first watch isn't going to be mine."

Heather didn't intend to stay with them all the way. They needed to learn, after all. She only stayed long enough to watch the effects of the innkeepers gossip.

Within a week the inn was flooded with people talking to them and Heather chuckled as they expertly concealed their panic and did their work. The unexpected effect, which she did not anticipate at all, was the sudden chatter about Haven.

She mentally took note that maybe Haven needed to be turned from a town to a city, if commerce was going to increase with the help from the healers.

Within another fortnight, Heather approached them again and said, "Well, fellows. You're pretty much established here. I'll tell Eilys about this. Some of you might want to move on soon. The goal of the Order was to reach s many villages as possible."

There was dismay in all of their faces. "You're leaving, Lady Gryffon?"

She chuckled. "Yes, I only came to see how you lot would do, and I must say that you're doing splendidly. Oh, and don't forget that even if your robes repel dirt and sweat, you still get dirty inside."

As she was wearing her belt buckle, getting ready to leave, one of the healers caught up with her and said, "Lady Gryffon, if I might ask? What do we do with the cakes and the money?"

The healers had been taught to take nothing, in the spirit of service. Heather found the rule ridiculous. Because no matter what you said, people got offended if you rejected their gifts.

Heathers forehead creased with thought. "Umm, I might suggest giving it to the children and the give the money to the beggars. You might want to keep a small bit of it though, in case your next innkeeper isn't so nice."

The effects of the Order wasn't so obvious until the next two months came and a group of people came, asking to be taught. Word had spread that Haven was a town for the educated.

Heather had acted on what she had seen in the inn and had already done some minor tweaks, like adding extra inns and encouraging Hermione, Luna and Draco to expand their school and their staff. What she hadn't expected was the number of people asking to be taught fighting since some of them had been put on their backs by a couple of harmless healers.

"We're building a city," Hermione had remarked as she looked at the blueprint of the town. "And if this continues, we'll have to add another school, not just mine."

Heather felt like wailing at the increase of paperwork. "Guiomer, where are you?" she sighed mournfully.

But they only truly realized how far things had gotten when they received Theodred, Prince of Rohan.

* * *

Omake:

**When Guiomer met the Twins**

"Hi, I'm Guiomer," he introduced himself. He was pleased that one of his pseudo –aunts finally found an apprentice. It was even nicer that there were two of them since Lady Eilys needed all the help she could to run a really large hospital.

One of them looked at him with indifference. "Charmed, I'm sure," he said in a bored tone.

Guiomer twitched. He looked to the other one.

"You don't need to introduce yourself," this one said. "Everybody knows you. What are you, an idiot?"

Oh, for the love of the Valar. Two of them were really too much.


	11. The Measure of Happiness

When Guiomers missive came, Heather nearly wept.

Things had gone so hectic with the four of them, with only some minor help from the apprentices. Hermione was forced to let go of the library and left it to Felicia. Draco did the same to most of his lectures after some prompting from Heather since Meiran could probably quote him, word for word. Luna could not let go of the hospital because doing so would probably cause a riot, so she lent Phobos and Deimos to the others.

The twins were used to doing Luna's organizing and paperwork either way and found it to be very familiar and easy. They also told this to Hermione's face. She nearly popped a blood vessel in holding back her temper.

Hostels, because hotels were apparently not familiar in Arda, sprung up over the economic boom. Heather and Hermione had studied history and knew one mistake could send the economy spiraling downwards too. If either of them were capable of having white hairs – never mind that Heather could have white hairs and nobody would notice because of the multitude of colors in her hair – it would have been liberally sprinkled with white.

To add to the pressure was Prince Theodred.

The prince had arrived in Haven, asking to speak to the town's leader/mayor/ruler and etc. Everybody pointed to the four of them and her three friends pointed to Heather. The prince then gave her a written letter in Westron from his father, King Theoden.

Summarily put, the prince was to learn the sword. The underlying hint was that the king would hear about everything about the while town from the prince's report. Draco's hand signals confirmed that the prince meant no harm.

Bugger! Heather had a burgeoning headache to top it off.

"King Theoden," Draco remarked. "I knew him when he was a prince and I helped cure his father of his deafness."

That drew the prince's attention to him.

"You knew father when grandsire was still alive?" Theodred said. "You look very young."

"Looks can be deceiving," Hermione said. "You can read and write your highness?"

There was a look of royal affront on his face. "Of course," he said coldly.

Relief came over their faces. "Good," Heather sighed. "I made it a requirement in order to learn the sword."

Confusion was on his face. "Why?" he asked. "Soldiers don't need to read."

Heather winced since that always started a Hermione rant. Indeed, she didn't disappoint.

"For the love of the Valar!" Hermione exclaimed. "Intelligence starts with literacy and only then will you start to ask questions. An intelligent soldier can perform more efficiently anyway, and – "

This would have gone on longer but Heather interrupted when she saw Theodred's expression.

"Alright, I think he gets it, Enid," Heather cut in. "You are lucky to have arrived now, though." She elaborated at his questioning look. "The program we created for this takes two years. The next one starts within a week. You can, of course, request for extra lessons if you wish it."

They signaled one of the children to guide him to the more popular hostels. Everybody really worked in Haven. Hermione had even found jobs for the would-be beggars, making them translate languages and giving them a home.

"Merlin's buggering beard," Heather sighed as she slumped against the table. There was a groan somewhere that sounded like Draco and a sigh to her right that was Hermione. Luna plopped to the floor and laughed, prompting all of them to look at her.

"What?" Draco growled.

"I'll say that I'm as tired as anything," Luna said. "But I can't be happier."

That made all of them smile, jolting with them with energy and making them all laugh too. Kreacher then appeared, carrying bread and feeding them. That had been his job ever since the start of the economic rise, when all of them became so busy that eating had become a vague dream.

Of course, when the next program started for learning the sword, a week later, that was when Guiomers letter came, stating that he was given leave to return home within three days.

Heather was extremely tempted to announce a celebration and instead settled for silencing her room and then jumping up and down, screaming loudly.

* * *

While Guiomer was busy watching the changes to the town-turned-city, Heather was busy catalouging the changes that had come over him in their time apart.

She took in his ever more impressive height, his happier eyes and his leaner frame. His hair really took after hers since it had been added in with cream, gold and crimson.

"What?" he asked consciously when he noticed her staring. "The hair makes me look funny, doesn't it?"

Heather smiled. "Oh, no. That's like insulting myself, anyway. I just missed you so very much."

He laughed and swung her around in the crowded street. "Oh, my sweet lady mother! You cannot imagine how much I missed you too."

All official stuff was postponed that night as all of them welcomed Guiomer home. Apathetic Phobos surprised everyone by actually being happy at seeing him, saying, "It's good to have you home, Guiomer," he said as though he really cared. Deimos destroyed the moment of shock by continuing his brothers statement, "That way, this lot might actually have time to sleep, so all of us can rest too."

Guiomer only laughed and that set the theme for their mini-party.

When he unpacked that night, Heather watched him with sad eyes and had to stifle a sob. Guiomer heard it anyway and stopped puttering around his room.

"What's wrong, mater?" he asked, wiping away her tears. "Why are you crying?"

"You are growing up so fast," she whispered. "I still remember when you were as big as a smudge, trying you best to lift the sword."

The remembrance of that made her scowl a bit, but it went away quickly when Guiomer cleared a space in his bed and sat her down on it. Then he settled on the floor and placed his head on his mother's lap, just like he used to when he was younger and Heather was less busy. And, like always, Heather combed through his hair and he told her about his day. In this case, the seven months he had stayed with the elves.

"My gift is not as powerful as yours," he said, sounding sleepy. "But it's still stronger than Lord Elrond's. He has me practicing meditation every chance I had. It was as boring as anything."

Lightning quick, he changed topics.

"Oh, by the way, mater, the elves taught me a new sword move. I want to try it on you tomorrow. I may finally be able to put you on your back." Then he yawned, cutting off the rest of his words.

"It's time to sleep, little warrior," she said fondly. "You are starting to eat your words."

He gave a small token of protest but it was a testament to his exhaustion that he didn't have more fuss. Then she arranged his belonging and cleaned the dust with a simple wave of her hand.

The following morning had Guiomer aghast at the errands that seemed to have multiplied in his absence. Heather had dark smudges under her eyes and was drinking the kind of bitter tea that made one want to vomit but had better results than pepper-up. Draco didn't hand her potions if he could help it.

"Why on earth did you stop working yesterday?" he asked.

Heather smiled at him. "You are fairly more important than any work in all of Arda."

That made him blush. He looked away in embarrassment, and then cleared his throat. "So, anything I can do to help?"

Heather hesitated and he looked alarmed. "It isn't paperwork," she assured him. "It's a tad bit more challenging."

"Just the way I like it," he said. "Well?"

Heather placed the cup to the side with a sigh. "It's the prince of Rohan. He's fairly important since Draco read his intentions and all of us know our relations with Rohan will depend on how we're treating the prince. Can you?" she waved her hand to finish the question.

"Will it help you?" he demanded.

She nodded quickly. "Very much so, yes! I'm commissioning the children to watch him and make sure he has all he needs, and they give me continuous reports I have to read over! And if I have to read Pelan's atrocious grammar once more time, I may commit  _bloody murder_."

Guiomer chuckled as he kissed his mothers hands and went off in search of the prince. Guiomer found him in one of the newer city intersections that was decorated by a rearing horse. Prince Theodred was writing in one of the benches that surrounded it.

Surreptitiously, Guiomer glanced around and saw one of the many orphans of the city, watching over the prince like a hawk. He gave the kid a thumbs up and a nod and then child slumped with relief, and then scampered off, most likely to find the next job.

"Hey," he greeted. "Prince Theodred? I'm Guiomer, Lady Gryffons son."

"A pleasure to meet you," the prince answered politely, tucking away his parchment and writing utensils like he did it every day. Theodred looked at Guiomer with a professional eye, and then he said, "You look a lot like your lady mother."

"I get that a lot," he chuckled. "So how is the city treating you?"

Theodred gave him a knowing look and then launched into a wonderful monologue of the city, the lessons and the strange variety of languages that most people in the city spoke. He tapered off with, "But there seems to be a strange emphasis on speed in the lessons. Is it just me, or is it normal?"

Guiomer suppressed the urge to wince at how observant the prince really was. No wonder his father sent him to scout in Haven despite him being only sixteen years old.

"It's normal," he answered as blithely as possible. "The program was created by Lady Gryffon. Most of the teachings were inspired by her. Most of the teachers can't even touch her, so that's probably their frustration showing."

The prince looked shocked. "She is that good?"

"Good and fast," Guiomer clarified. "She was taught by the Dúnedain themselves."

Were those stars shining in his eyes? Bugger, the prince of Rohan had a crush on his mother. Guiomer tried not to think too hard about it.

"Can I spar against her?" the prince demanded.

Now that was a more common response. Guiomer eagerly replied with, "Yes. She spends at least one day every week, sparring in the training courts. It keeps her in shape, she says."

There were more questions about how the city ran, what made it so busy and why there was a lot of orphans in the city.

The last one nearly made Guiomer laugh because he remembered his mothers rant about Pelan, but he held it back by sheer force of will. "The name is Haven, Prince Theodred," he answered. "It is a place of learning, yes, but it is also a place where people come looking for protection, for hope and for a new start. Most of the orphans come from other towns where they were neglected and mistreated. Here, there is a special office just for them, where they are paid on silver coin for every job they accomplish."

"A sense of fulfillment and responsibility," Prince Theodred concluded. There was respect in his face. Understandable since one silver coin was really a lot for a child to have.

"To also make them avoid crime and pick-pocketing," Guiomer added. "And to set them up in the future so they can buy their own house and start their own business."

"They learn how to handle money?" was the last question.

"It is taught in Lady Enids schools. She makes a special point to let the children know about it," he said.

That shocked the prince speechless since those kinds of lessons were only taught to army commanders and nobles. It must have turned his world upside down because he had always been told at birth that the commoners needed the nobles to do the thinking for them.

When the silence stretched out, Guiomer finally stood up and sighed. "I better go. Mother really needs my help."

That made Prince Theodred unfreeze and scramble after him. "Wait, please. Can you take me around the city? I always seem to get lost."

Guiomer finally let out a small laugh. "I'll just get lost too," he said. "I just got back yesterday, and then the next thing I know, the town is now as big as anything."

The prince hooked an arm around Guiomers shoulders. "Then let's get lost together," he said firmly. "And my name is Theodred. Drop the prince bit."

"Much appreciated," Guiomer said. Then he whistled sharply to the child drinking a bit of juice. The boy took one look at Guiomers hair and ran towards him quickly and bowed.

"Lord Guiomer!" the boy cried happily. "You are here! The sweet Lady Gryffon has been rumored to become a large dragon in your absence."

Guiomer choked on that since he could fairly well imagine his mother as a dragon. He coughed then said, "I just got back yesterday. Want to lead me and the prince around the city? It got really huge."

The boy nodded and then turned business-like. "Where do you want to go?"

"The landmarks," Theodred said. "So as to help us from losing our way. Then we can explore by ourselves."

"Well, there's the Rearing Horse in the south of the City, the Dancing Nymph in the north, the Mighty Wizard in the east and Fenny the Fox in the west," the boy recited dutifully. He sounded like he had swallowed a manual. "At the center of the city is the Choosing Square, where Lord Guiomer took the word stuck in the stone," he finished.

Guiomer blinked. "What? Their calling that place the Choosing Square because of me?"

Theodred looked bewildered. "Who is Fenny the Fox?"

"Lady Eilys' pet," the boy answered promptly.

Guiomer recovered from his surprise and tossed the boy a coin. "Thanks boy. What's your name?"

The kid flashed a grin. "It's Pelan, my lord!"

Guiomer nearly asphyxiated in holding back his laughter.

* * *

Things settled down when Hermione finished hammering out the committees. There would be bi-monthly meetings but that was it.

The moment the very first committee meeting ended, all four of them took off to the Sanctuary. There was a roaring fire and silence. More importantly, there was no paperwork. The very idea made Heather want to cry, or scream in happiness. She wasn't sure which. They ended up in a pile-up in front of the fire. It was a mixture of limbs, hair and blankets and felt heavenly.

"Of all the Merlin blessed luck," Draco muttered. "You're the only one I know that can make a city and attract a country's attention, Potter."

She hadn't had a proper conversation with Draco in  _months_ , let alone an argument, so she welcomed his words, barbs and all.

"I didn't make the city by myself, you know," Heather pointed out. "You factored in that somehow."

"But these kinds of ridiculous things didn't happen to me until I met you, so you might have something to do with it anyway," he shot back.

Hermione laughed and it made Luna giggle too. Draco sighed. "Women! I'm surrounded by women."

There was a silence and Heather wasn't sure if her friends had fallen asleep or what. Heather was drifting off to sleep herself when Luna suddenly spoke up, "We're a city now, right?"

Draco grunted. Luna took it as agreement because she continued, "If we're a city, what do you call the one that leads it? A mayor or a governor?"

"A mayor," Hermione piped up. "Because a governor leads on a much larger scale, usually a large state."

"So what you're getting at," Draco said. "Is that Potter is now a mayor?"

Heather couldn't take it anymore and spoke up. "Guys? I might like the idea that there is an actual hierarchy but can we not call it mayor? Most authority figures I remember were pansy wimps," Fudge was foremost in her mind.

"Would you like to be called Princess, instead?" Draco sniped.

"None of that," she sniped back. "Why me, anyway?"

"You're the sticking charm, feather," Luna said. "You're the one that keeps us all together."

There was silence, and that was equivalent to joyful agreement in Draco's case. In Hermione's case, it meant she was thinking.

"You don't like to be called titles," Hermione said eventually. "So this will be unofficial then. The kind of thing that everybody know but nobody really puts a name to."

"Just like that bull about the Chosen One, except more obscure," Draco added cheerfully. "No titles."

"Yes, Draco. You can still call me Potter and be disrespectful," Heather sighed.

* * *

Omake:

**When Guiomer met Meiran and the catalyst that made her a bitch  
**

"Hi, I'm Guiomer," he said with his perpetually cheerful smile. This was the general greeting most people had in Haven, so he was completely surprised when the girl, Meiran, burst into tears.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

She hiccupped, large blue eyes looking at him. "I'm sorry, youre just so nice."

Guiomer was aghast. This was Lord Hodur's apprentice? He was going to eat her alive, then dance over her bones.

"Girl," he said seriously. "You have got to grow a backbone."


	12. Biting the Bullet

At the end of two years, Prince Theodred went home to Rohan and returned with his younger cousins, Lord Eomer and Lady Eowyn. Heather assigned Guiomer and Felicia to them, because any of the other apprentices might cause an international incident.

The city committee meetings were something all four of them hated with a passion. Hermione solved it by creating rotations. Draco made it bearable by placing stating that he required all reports to be summarized. He also set most of their reports to fifteen minutes maximum. Since most of the committee heads were previous students of Hermione, it was a piece of cake.

But the city eventually settled, like a child that had finished his current growth spurt and was settling into his new height tentatively.

The hospital had its own routines too and there were often moments were Luna would have nothing else to do but go and pester Heather. That would lead to both of them travelling out of the city for a couple of weeks. Guiomer usually grumbled good naturedly since he was jealous of his mother's travelling.

It was in these types of events that Luna and Heather encountered a pack of wolves. This was particularly unfortunate since Heather was not carrying the sword and settled for liberally using Impedimenta and Apparition.

"Luna, leave!" Heather shouted. "I can handle this."

It was because of Luna's presence that Heather refrained from killing. She was unwilling to subject Luna to one of the vulnerabilities her gift gave her.

"I shouldn't," Luna cried. "Heather – "

Whatever Luna would have said was cut off by a howl coming from the nearest wolf and then Heather's precognition kicked in and she knew that if she did not move, she would return to the city short of a sister. Heather apparated towards her quickly, covering Luna with her cloak and moving to apparate. A wolf made a desperate lunge and caught Heathers shoulder in its jaws just as they apparated.

They arrived back in Haven, appearing inside the small house that all four of them shared with a crack!

Luna, recovering from her surprise, quickly noticed the spreading blood and the wolf still chewing through Heather's shoulder.

A boiling rage came over Luna. It wasn't often that it happened.

" _Accio!_ " Luna shrieked. A sword came flying towards her and she grasped it and quickly beheaded the wolf. She was too distraught over Heather to notice the wolf dying or the state of its soul.

Heather had collapsed from the pain and had used sheer will to send them back home before she fainted. Apparating injured always made injuries worse.

"She needs medical attention," Phobos said, startling Luna. She was so focused on Heather that she hadnt noticed that they had dropped in on the apprentices and her siblings having a late lunch.

"I'll take care of it," she croaked. She dropped the sword – Merlin, when was the last time she had held a sword? – and carried Heather to the sofa.

"I'll need a sterilized needle and thread," she started. Then she turned to Draco. "Blood Replenishers and that one that stopped a fever."

"Fever few," Hermione supplied. "Luna, are you sure you can do this? I don't think it's advisable."

Luna ignored Hermione and settled down to work. She used everything she had and everybody moved, eager to help. Only when the minor operation finished did she break down into shock.

"My lady!" Meiran exclaimed when she finally started crying.

Draco scooped her up and looked to Hermione, who nodded. "Kreacher will clean her, so you'll have no problems," she said. "I'll stay with feather."

The apprentices, minus Guiomer, were all watching this with worried eyes. Especially the twins. Bugger, even Deimos was wringing his hands.

"You lot, Eilys will be in a fragile state for a couple of days," Hermione said. "I expect you," she pointed to the twins. "To take over her duties for those days and not cause a riot or something. Gryffon will probably descend to a fever anyway, so we'll be pretty busy."

"Yes, my lady," they chorused.

And then Hermione remembered Guiomer, who was sitting in Heathers office while all of them were at lunch. She swallowed, "Felicia, you'll have to tell Guiomer about Gryffon. I'll move her to her room. You lot ought to clean up this mess as well."

The apprentices, who had been sworn to secrecy about their magic, didn't bat an eyelash when Hermione procured her wand. She could have done it wandlessly but Hermione was taking no chances in Heathers state.

When she came back down the stairs, the dishes were washed and there was no blood on the couch, or beheaded wolf on the floor. The twins were there though and looking as concerned as she had ever seen.

"My lady," Demios stated politely. "What do you think happened?"

Merlin. The twins must really like Luna, or even Heather. They were being nice and concerned. And they were paler than anything.

Hermione eyed them speculatively. "What do you know about Eilys' gift?" she eventually asked.

The twins exchanged glances. "That she has really good ears," Phobos said. "She hears us coming every time and we can never surprise her."

"That's one way to put it," Hermione conceded. "But Eilys can hear every living things voice. It makes her incredibly perceptive but it also makes her incredibly vulnerable. Before Haven was founded, Eilys saw a person die in front of her and she heard his soul scream as it was ripped from its body."

Their faces were twin looks of horror. Hermione nodded, pleased that they understood what that meant to gentle Luna.

"She came home a wreck," Hermione continued. "Only Gryffon was home then and she stayed with Eilys for days. Eventually, Eilys decided that she never wanted to hear that again and wanted to learn healing."

"So…" Deimos started.

"This was the first time since then that Lady Eilys took a life?" Phobos finished.

Hermione shrugged. "What I think it - " the door opened with a  _bang!_  and cut off the rest of Hermione's words.

"Where is she?" Guiomer demanded. He looked panicked.

"Calm down," Hermione snapped. Her nerves felt frayed and she did not need a frantic Guiomer on top of it. "She doesn't need you fretting. She's sleeping."

"Sleeping or in a magical coma?" Guiomer asked, used to Hermione's euphemisms.

"We're not sure," was the nervous answer.

Guiomer dashed up the stairs. Hermione sighed and turned her attention back to the twins. "I think Gryffon didn't want to kill, not with Eilys with her. She was protecting Eilys so much that she compromised herself."

The twins left the house, ashen faced but very determined. There was a glint in their eyes that Hermione was unused to seeing in the twins. It was the determination that usually came over Draco when it came to creating an antidote for a specific poison, or the will that consumed Heather to make Luna's dreams come true.

Draco's Patronus flitted downstairs, taking the shape of an eagle. "She's awake," came his voice.

Hermione had no time for surprise, or thinking as she dashed up the stairs.

* * *

Hermione was right, Luna was in a fragile state of mind, but she was guiltier about Heather than about killing the damned wolf, so that was the one plus in the entire situation. She kept nattering about the should-haves until it really got irritating. Hermione could see Draco biting his tongue and trying to be sympathetic.

And in another case, Heather really did descend into a fever that lasted for two days. Guiomer was hard pressed to be made to leave his mothers bed side and looked like a walking zombie. He did Heathers duties with brutal efficiency and spent what moment he wasn't working to hover over her. Kreacher had to force-feed all of them, muttering unintelligible dire threats about bones and fevers.

When she finally did wake up, Heather reassured her son with a hug and a kiss and then demanded to be carried to Luna's room. Guiomer was more familiar with her stubbornness than anything and acquiesced.

Then Heather proceeded to call Luna all kinds of idiot, not being sympathetic at all and making the spectators gape, and she ended the rant with, "I love you very much, moonbeam. I would give anything to make you happy, but can you stop driving everybody mad? Now, get off that bed and join me in a meal. Afterwards, you can check on my health yourself."

Luna scrambled out of the bed quickly and ran towards her. They did everything Heather said and that slowly set Luna out of her gloom and depression and back to work.

But she found a surprise when she returned to the hospital.

There were no riots and there were no disasters. The twins had curbed their penchant for creating arguments and chaos and had actually managed the hospital even better than she had.

"Are you trying to make a statement?" Luna had asked after she had gotten over her shock. "Or is this because I became indisposed for a couple of days?"

Phobos managed a wry look in her direction, and Deimos gave her a scorching look.

"You underestimate the power of Lady Enid's scoldings," Phobos said. He didn't sound like he meant to be annoyed. In fact, most of their looks and gestures were half-heated.  _As though done just to stay in character._

Luna smiled when she realized that. "Both of you can stop acting now. And thank you for taking care of the hospital for me."

The boys looked awkward for a moment before giving in and hugging Luna in a twin-sandwich. She laughed and hugged back.

She then left the hospital in their charge, content in knowing that the two of them would do a splendid job. Luna instead focused on the Order and ironed out some kinks in it.

It was also just in time for the first five Order members to come home after a five years journey.

"Welcome home," she greeted them, taking in their tired and lined faces. "I'll give you two days to rest and reacquaint yourselves with the city. On the fourth day, you'll give me your reports and then I'll establish you as Master Healers."

Their faces brightened at that and they trooped out with some laughter.

It was a happy moment for the city as well as the Order because while most of the five Order members were orphans, two of them had a family and it made most of the citizen's smile at the celebrations occurring.

But Luna read their reports with sad eyes, soul heavy and burdened. It was as though no matter how many Order members they would turn out, they were still a lot more people that needed help. Like a ratio of 0.5 to 500.

The journeyman healers had watched her read it and knew what she was seeing.

Ellas spoke up when Luna closed the file with shuttered eyes. "We know it is disheartening," he said. "But at least we're spreading hope. It isn't hopeless, Lady Eilys."

Luna sighed. "Oh, I know that. I saw the exact same thing when I wandered Arda for years, asking to be taught healing." Then she straightened up. "For every year after you left, I have only allowed five healers to leave the status of apprentice to become a journeyman healer. Now that you are back, I can finally implement the final stages of the program."

She looked them in the eyes, each of them and saw their burning passion to serve, to heal and to help. "I have a set of then journeyman healers waiting for you. Once you have been vested in the robes of a master healer, they are yours to teach and to guide."

One of them, Corkin, raised a hand. "Why?" he asked.

"Gryffon told me that she accompanies each and every batch of Order members to the nearest town and tells them what to do, instead of leaving them to figure it out for themselves," Luna said. "I want you to do the same to them so that they don't flounder. You don't carry them. You will teach them how to walk in the shoes of a journeyman healer."

* * *

Heather knew she wasn't in the right shape to travel soon, but she had to meet the new set of journeyman healers to drop in a bit of advice, so she commissioned one of the children to act as her crutch and another to one for help in case she collapsed.

Instead of looking nervous, the children looked proud of the duty and were as alert as anything. Go figure. If she had been in their shoes, shed have been afraid of the possible collapse happening.

But to go back to the point, Heather went to the hospital/academy quickly and saw, instead of the usual crow of five, grey cloaked healers, threw re ten of them and milling in with them were five blue-cloaked fellows that bore the crest of the Order.

"Master healers," she remarked upon realizing what the color meant. "Luna, you're brilliant!"

One of the blue-cloaked fellows noticed her and drew attention to her by crying out, "Lady Gryffon! You're here!"

Heather laughed. "Yeah, and so are you. Master healers already, are you?"

One of them made a face, "So Lady Eilys tells us. I don't feel like I mastered anything but blistered feet."

That had the group laughing even as they eyed her bandage with professional curiosity. The academy doors opening had all of them turning serious and lining up in neat rows.

Luna came out of the doors, flanked by her apprentices. She was about to make a speech but then she saw Heather standing near the back. Her eyes widened and she signaled one of the children to grab a chair.

"My healers," she started. Her voice was slightly shaky since she was watching Heather settle on the chair. "Five years ago, five of the bravest people went on a journey with little to no idea on what to do. But they soldiered on, easing the way for those who came behind them. They returned a week ago and agreed to be with you as you travel even farther than them."

Luna's speech went on for another paragraph more. It probably would have lasted longer but she saw Heather sway slightly in her seat.

"Feather," Luna said as she approached her friend. "Are you trying to give me white hairs?"

Heather gave her a wan smile. "No. but I've given you a week, Luna. You've been avoiding me."

"Well, but – " she started.

"You might as well admit it, you know," Draco said, making Luna jump in fright. Heather took note of that as she turned to see Draco and Hermione watching both of them with amusement and annoyance.

"What are you two doing here?" Heather asked.

"Following you, of course. What else?" Hermione answered. "You're supposed to be doing bed rest."

Heathers shoulders knotted with tension as she prepared for an argument.

"I'm going to do bed rest when Luna would stop being in denial," she said. When Luna opened her mouth to protest, Heather continued, "Don't lie, Luna! The moonbeam I know wouldn't even think about lying."

Luna trembled and Draco rolled his eyes. "Both of you are making a scene. Let's take this elsewhere."

He hooked his arm around Luna and took her to a nearby alleyway before apparating. Hermione wrapped her arms around Heathers waist and went through the same route.

"I'm not lying!" Luna was saying as they arrived in the Sanctuary.

"Potter has a point, you know," Draco said. "You are in denial."

Luna looked like she was going to do a Heather and turn stubborn. Then Heather spoke up, "Draco surprised you earlier. You didn't hear him. Luna, have you been rejecting your gift?"

That broke the dam.

"It's a curse!" she cried out. "Feather wouldn't have been hurt if she wasn't holding back because of me. What good is it?"

There was a shocked silence because the number of times Luna had shouted could be counted in one hand and there'd still be some fingers left over.

"You think your gift is a curse?" Draco asked in his most reasonable voice. "It's a part of you, just as much as your nose or your eyes are a part of you. It's a part of you, like breathing is."

"He's making sense," Heather muttered quietly. "surprisingly," she added under her breath. "But you can't just reject your gift," she continued. "I did that to mine and it nearly killed me. You can veil it but you must never reject it."

Luna sat shakily on the floor, prompting all of them to join her in an unofficial pile-up. She shook slightly as her gift awakened again.

"I forgot how difficult it was at the start," Luna whispered.

Draco snorted. "You are brilliant by yourself, Lovegood. Don't do a Potter and get yourself killed."

Despite the insult, Heather didn't react because it was a sort of a compliment to Luna. Hermione was the one who kicked him though.

* * *

Luna struggled with her gift for a couple of days. She had, apparently, been slowly killing it in the course of the week. Her gift struck back with a vengeance, making her twitch at the slightest sounds.

The only plus that occurred after the whole confrontation, as Hermione noted to the rest of her relatives, was that Luna had a stronger sense of control over her gift and wasn't quite so vulnerable anymore. That removed the burden Heather hadn't known she had been carrying.

Heather eventually recovered without being driven insane by the amount of fussing she received from everyone. The moment she was deemed well, she escaped her well-meaning siblings, borrowed the sword of Gryffindor from Guiomer and went to look for Training Masters. They were warriors like her, retied but still warriors. It was something you carried with you until death. They understood her need to be able to wield a sword and were not gentle as she slowly worked her way back to her old strength.

Prince Theodred and his cousins were among the spectators as she managed to disarm the Training master, even in her recently convalescent state, and they cheered her as she wielded her knives with graceful efficiency and deadly accuracy.

"You've been recently ill?" Prince Theodred asked. "Is that why Lord Guiomer has been a bit absentminded lately?"

Heather nodded just as she sighed. "Wolf caught me in the shoulder. And that child would worry, even if I just got a minor flesh wound."

"You are very good," thirteen year old Eomer said. "Have you been training long?"

Her nose scrunched up as she thought. "I first held a sword when I was twelve. I floundered a lot because the only instruction I received was to put the pointy end in the enemy. My first real lesson on the sword was with the Dúnedain, when they told me I'd get myself killed if they didn't teach me."

"How old were you then?" ten year old Eowyn asked. Her pale face was serious.

"Nineteen, I suppose," she answered after doing some quick calculations in her head. "We've stopped counting years."

It was hard to count years if you weren't familiar with the calendar. At best, she could give an approximate guess for her age.

Just then, the wards around the city, which was intimately connected to the four of them, shivered. Heather stood up abruptly, the stiff shoulder forgotten. She signaled one of the Training master. "A Blue signal." And the man quickly scampered off. It meant alert, wary and prepared for evacuation at a moment's notice.

"What is it?" Prince Theodred asked, eyeing her straight posture and the way she gripped her sword.

"There are protections in this city, your highness," a nearby man answered for her. "And our Lords and Ladies are tied to it, protecting us from all threats."

"I'll check it out," she told the commander who had marched up to her the moment he saw her. She had switched to Latin, the language they used for war. "Do not incite a panic. This is a Blue signal, commander."

Heather strode into an empty alleyway and apparated to where she had felt the wards poked. The rest were already there, watching a grey-robed figure kneel to where they had etched the runes deep in the ground, hidden from the rest of the world.

"Who is it?" she asked after she had recovered her breath.

"Gandalf the Grey," Luna answered.

* * *

Omake:

**When Meiran met the Twins**

"And who're you?" one of them asked. "Another idiot?"

Meiran felt her temper rise. Only Hodur could do it these days, and she only unleashed it on him because he deserved it, but these two were going to be fair game. They were asking for it.

"If you keep talking to me like that, I'm going to become your worst nightmare," she snarled.


	13. Unasked Questions

Gandalf the Grey's visit would have been terrific and a brilliant moment for Haven since his visit drew the attention of the gods to it. Heather was too anxious to remember the confrontation, and she was constantly tapping on the edge of her precognition.

The reason? Arda was a world that was relatively young and its gods were still the active sort. Remembering the history of the Numenoreans, it made Heather just a tad bit nervous.

Did she fidget? Oh, not at all. Did she constantly think about the glory and complete simplicity of the wild and longed to high tail and abandon her siblings? Never! And denial wasn't only a river in Egypt.

Hermione did smack her in the head that night. "Stop looking like you want to throw a knife at him," she scolded. "You're making everyone else nervous. Feather, you're making _me_  nervous."

"Bu-but," she stammered. "The valar…"

"Eru Ilúvatar wouldn't have allowed us entry if he didn't like us," Hermione pointed out. "Calm down, will you? Or I'll ask Draco to sedate you while Gandalf is here."

It did take a while to calm herself down and it resulted in Heather not getting any sleep at all. Any other person would have been jumpy. But in Heathers case, with her instincts honed by war and further hammered down by hunting dark creatures, it made her wits sharper.

Giving up on sleep, she went down the stairs and was unsurprised to find Gandalf puffing on his pipe and staring at the fire.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Heather didn't flinch, but she did blink several times. "It's a lost cause," she answered. "What's so fascinating in the fire?"

He then turned to look at her, bushy brows arched in amusement. "Fire is always fascinating to man, Lady Gryffon. Do I frighten you? You hardly said a word to me."

Gandalf's question made a small well of bitterness rise up. Heather thought she'd dealt with that, but to have most of your life dictated by an accursed prophecy made her slightly wary of dealing with gods and their agents. (Trelawny, anyone?)

Heather's smile was bitter and cynical, bordering on angry. " _Frighten_  is not the word I would use. Anything touched by the gods is something I tend to avoid."

Gandalf looked surprised, as though that wasn't the answer he had expected. Then he turned fully from the fire and sat to face her properly. "The valar are kind, Lady Gryffon. They don't intervene unnecessarily."

"Whatever gods that were in my world were never kind to me," she snapped. Her conscience poked on her on how bleeding selfish that was. It was unbelievable on how like Hermione it sounded. "I beg your pardon. I had forgotten this anger," she whispered.

Gandalf's eyes were kind. "Do you wish to tell me?"

Oh, for the love of Rowena!

Heather looked to the lightening window and tried to get her tears under control. That question hadn't been asked to her since Remus, Sirius and Dumbledore died. They had lived through one war and knew the demons that would plague you afterwards. Hermione was struggling with her own nightmares and couldn't ask and Luna did not know how to ask it.

"Will you walk with me?" Heather eventually asked.

He agreed and left his staff. That degree of trust had Heather trembling. The brisk air of pre-dawn cleared her mind and took away most of her emotional turmoil. It left her feeling strangely empty as she told him haltingly about the thrice-damned prophecy and the accursed war. It was the most she had told anyone, even Aragorn.

When she finished, they had arrived at the statue of the Mighty Wizard. Heather seated them on one of the many stone benches that surrounded it and waited for his verdict.

"Thank you for telling me," he said gravely. "You've been keeping this deep in you for quite a while. But, may I ask? Why have you chosen to tell me?"

In for a knut, in for a galleon.

"Eilys trusts you and I generally trust her opinion on people. And Hodur can see the state of people's souls. Since he hasn't started muttering yet, then that must mean you're trustworthy. The only thing that can get him into proper form is seeing corruption in peoples souls," she said.

Gandalf was astonished. "He can see people's souls? I thought he is blind?"

"Oh no," she assured him. "If he chooses to forego his eyes, then he can see farther. When he uses his eyes, he is usually not using his gift."

The respect on his face increased and Heather wanted to knock sense in him, that these gifts were heavy burdens that did not deserve other people's awe, but Heather knew that he wouldn't understand.

Gandalf's visit lasted for a week and during that time, the four of them introduced to him the beauty and nobility that was Haven. It was a perfectly mutual relationship since Gandalf taught them about Arda and they taught him the small changes they had wrought in Middle-Earth since their arrival.

And since Gandalf knew they were from another world, they eventually introduced him to Kreacher.

It was a rather comical sight, since they had managed to shock Gandalf to gaping like a fish.

"Kreacher is pleased to meet you, Mister Wizard Sir," Kreacher bowed.

Gandalf looked like he wanted to bow back and Heather stomped on his foot. He made a coughing sort of sound. " _Arumph!_  Pleased to meet you as well, Kreacher," he said. He sounded slightly strangled but at least he hadn't bowed back. That would have set Kreacher muttering on how improper Gandalf was as a wizard if he showed submission.

"Can Kreacher do anything for you, Mister Wizard Sir?" he asked.

Gandalf glanced at Heather and had gotten to know her well enough to recognize the spark of mischief in her eyes. He turned back to Kreacher and answered before she could say anything. "You can tell me about yourself. Kreacher, what exactly are you?"

While Heather was slightly disappointed not to have sown chaos, the others sighed in relief as Gandalf had chosen the one topic that would ensure Kreacher's preoccupation.

"Kreacher is a house-elf," Kreacher announced proudly. "Wizards are messy beasties and forget to clean. They are misbehaving too. So magic made house-elves to take care of them and make sure they don't die from the mess."

"Are there any others of your kind in Arda, Kreacher?" Gandalf queried with curiosity.

Kreacher shook his head. "Oh, no. But don't worry, Mister Wizard Sir. Kreacher is tied to Master and Missy's. As they are still alive, so is Kreacher still alive."

When Kreacher had left to do his many duties like taking care of Draco's greenhouses, cleaning Luna's hospital Linens and sweeping up Hermione's dirty library, Gandalf looked to the four of them incredulously.

"A soul bond?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. She had, after all, done an intensive study on the convoluted bond of master and house-elf. She was the only one who could answer with some measure of technicality.

"No. Kreacher is a house-elf. His magical stability is supposed to depend on his master's mental state. In return for that stability, his masters get a clean house." Hermione winced at how lacking that sounded. "I know its brief, but he's the only house elf to ask. When we passed through the ritual..."

The incredulity did fade from his face the more Hermione talked, and the matter of soul bonds was dropped.

In one of the many talks that Heather and Gandalf had, they eventually touched the topic of the country of Rohan, and of Gandalf's many names.

It was inevitable, with Prince Theodred learning knife fighting in the morning, philosophy with Hermione in the afternoon and memorizing medicinal herbs in the evening. His schedule meant that Gandalf crossed his path several times. It surprised Heather that every time they met, there was a tinge of fear in Prince Theodred's face.

"Is it personal, or may I ask?" Heather eventually said.

Something crossed his face. It could have been amusement but she wasn't sure since he was wearing a  _beard_. People with beards were really hard to read.

"In the East, the people have different names for me. Most notably, Gandalf Stormcrow," he explained.

Ah. Heather could relate since Girl-Who-Lived had easily changed to Deranged Mad-Woman in the blink of an eye.

"But don't you ever visit for social reasons?" Heather had to ask. "If you only visit for warnings and dire times, then Stormcrow could be understandable."

He sighed sadly. "I was sent here to prevent Sauron's rise, and if possible, defeat him for good. I have no time to rest and be social, most of the time I have is spent seeking the One Ring."

Another Dark Lord. Another Horcrux and another Horcrux hunt. She could understand his urgency, but urgency to the point of alienating your allies was stupid and she told him so.

Gandalf's eyes bulged for a moment with surprise and then he laughed. "Thank you for that. I may have to take a break for a year or so."

The topic of the Dunlendings was not touched until the last day of Gandalf's visit. It happened as an accident, when Heather removed her gloves to emphasize a point in one of her lectures. Prince Theodred handed her the oiling cloth and she brushed one of his fingers. It was only for a moment, but it was enough.

There were horses, flashes of swords and dark-haired warriors. She saw orcs and arrows. Lastly, she saw him die.

The class ended early as Heather went to the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach.

At dinner, they were having a sort-of party for Gandalf leaving and she could have easily been overlooked…if the party had been with other people. But while her siblings were picking Gandalf's brain, Felicia and Meiran sat in either side of her and looked at her expectantly.

"What?" she asked.

"So, we heard through the grapevine that you saw Prince Theodred's future," Felicia started.

Oh, bugger. Her standard class was composed of fifteen students. With how Haven gossiped, the entire city would know it by the next day.

"Yep. So what about it?" Heather answered, acting nonchalant.

Meiran gave her a look. "Whoever told you that we're stupid? Come on, let if out," she muttered.

Heather sighed, because no matter how tempting it was, there were really some futures you can't tell to people. "I'm leaving for Rohan," she said instead.

Their reactions amused Heather, because other people would have reacted differently. Their reaction was nearly non-existent since Felicia's only concern was the classes Heather would leave untaught and Meiran's only concern was the herbs to send with her, because Draco didn't trust her alone with potions.

"When are you leaving?" Guiomer asked, having overheard. "Are you bringing the sword?"

Heather sighed again, because her son looked a little frightened. It was only recently she had recovered her shoulder after all. "No, Guiomer. I am not bringing the sword. It wouldn't be prudent. And I have to leave with Gandalf. There is something I have to ask him."

Her siblings nearly reacted the same way, but they had heard about her accident with Prince Theodred and knew she had seen something. So Hermione merely pursed her lips and Draco muttered. Luna only sighed and helped pack her bags.

* * *

Heather fumed and seethed while she travelled to Rohan.

What she had heard from Gandalf had reminded her forcibly of the history at home, the one about the Romans and the Scottish. It buggered Heather that the Dunlendings were repeating history.

"Technically," she muttered. "They haven't repeated anything yet."

As her anger slowly shimmered down, Heather started contemplating how she would approach the Dunlendings. From what she'd heard, they were a vicious sort of people and very territorial. Case in point, the constant skirmishes with Rohan.

Her precognition was useless because a certain event hadn't happened yet, like an important decision. So Heather had to rely on instinct and gut-feeling and narrowly avoided the patrol riders from Rohan.

But of course, since she was so intent on avoiding the patrol riders, she landed right into a group of Dunlending scouts. They were as surprised as Heather…for about two seconds. Their recovery time was faster than hers though and within another second, she was bound with hemp ropes and trussed up like a pig on a stick.

Heather tried not to let her imagination lead to that direction while she aimed her deadliest glare to the ones taking away her knives. Though, it was something to watch her captor's faces when they realized how many knives she had on her person. She did, however, fire a mental scowl directed towards her precognition. It was as though the thing was conspiring against her. She really hated being treated like a captive and her gift probably knew that and didn't show her that image.

Bugger. It made her head hurt just thinking about it. Her gift didn't have a mind of its own, thank you. Because that would just be plain creepy.

The leader of the Dunlendings, for that certain tribe anyway, was fierce and brown-skinned. He had several animal skins wrapped around him, with chain-mail peeking under it. He asked Heather a question in their guttural language and when she didn't answer and looked really confused, it made him scowl even more.

He snapped to his warriors and they took her to a wooden prison. It may have been primitive and crudely done, but Heather knew it would take a lot of strength to break. They had used green wood. Banging your head against it would be like running at a tree. Ramming a shoulder would be a sure ticket to a dislocated shoulder and a world of pain.

So Heather settled comfortably in her prison and sighed. At least they didn't have anti-apparition wards. That would have been the cherry on the pie.

"Well," she remarked to herself in English. "I did want to find them and I did want to talk to them."

Heather hadn't realized they would have another language entirely. A small part of her brain, which she had corralled all the comments her siblings would have made, piped up, "This is just like first year, Heather!"

She directed a scowl at it and went to sleep.

* * *

Heather didn't know how long the Dunlendings would have kept her prisoner if one of the children hadn't accidentally set fire to their houses.

The thing was made of light materials and they were in a bleeding forest. The fire was fast and deadly. Heather still had nightmares about the Room of Requirement and Fiendfyre. She would have frozen and burned to death, but one of the women screamed. The woman sounded a lot like Hermione that Heather's muscles pumped with adrenalin. She summoned the Elder Wand from the Temporal Pocket she kept it in and shouted, " _ **Aguamenti!**_ "

A burst of water came forth and Heather wielded it efficiently to douse the fire. The spectacle had effectively frozen the tribe. So when a branch creaked and broke – which really would have damaged the little girl standing there, Heather summoned the girl with a flick of her wrist and banished the branch with a look.

When the adrenaline faded, Heather sank to the ground shakily as her legs turned to jelly and bit the inside of her cheek to stop from crying.

Deerskin shoes filled her vision and she craned her neck to find the leader looking at her with real concern.

"I'm alright," she reassured him in Westron. "Just… I don't like fire."

His face screwed in concentration as he spoke in broken Westron. "Thanks," he said. "Why you help?"

She huffed. "You needed it." To make a point, she looked around at the burned buildings and wet belongings. "Can I help?"

He agreed reluctantly and stationed one of the younger men to watch over her.

Well, goal accomplished. Now heather just had to understand why they kept attacking Rohan. Firstly, she had to help rebuild…which she did, without using too much magic. They seemed to accept that though. Their perceptions of wizards seemed to have to do with the great magics and rituals. The subtler magic that she used was something they didn't notice, like featherlight charms casted on stone.

It was pretty easy to convince them to switch to stone houses when she pointed to what had previously been their wooden houses. Heather helped in almost everything and was slowly changing their way of life.

When she found out that they had no deep-wells and were still relying on streams and dew drops, Heather made them one and they witnessed another of the fancier magics that involved the precise raising of the earth. Heather then dug runes on the stones and the deep-well for freshness, coolness and preservation of its clean state. Most of all, she ensured that it would only dry in a drought.

Slowly, they became less like tribes and more like clansmen living in a hidden city deep within the woods. Eventually, when they gathered around the fire along with the other tribe leaders, she asked, "Why do you attack Rohan?"

As one unit, they scowled. "Gather food," one answered. "Winter comes. They attack too."

That was really easy to solve. And no one had ever thought to try and do peace treaties with these fellows? What happened to diplomacy?

"I can teach you to deal with winter," she offered. "But you have to stop attacking Rohan. It's really, really not useful."

Though there were mutters, they agreed. So Heather started the food preservation lessons. She mainly directed this to the women. They accepted the duty with great enthusiasm. They learned smoking, salting and drying. When they exclaimed over the taste, she taught them about making stew.

Towards the men, she tasked them to make a storage area. Since it had to be cool, they eventually settled on the caves deep in the mountains.

When winter came and went without the Dunlendings having to attack anybody, they celebrated with a large party.

"I'll deal with Rohan," she told them. "But you have to hold to your promise."

* * *

Despite the fact that Heather had heard a lot of the Horse Lords of Rohan, and her city was even housing three of the kings' children-two of them adopted, the only one to have met King Theoden was Draco. So it was with some trepidation that she was led into the Golden Hall. The only comfort she had was apparition since her weapons were stripped from her.

King Theoden had golden hair, though it was liberally streaked with white and his keen eyes were the disarming shade of blue that his son had. They had different coloring but Heather could see where Theodred received his mannerisms.

"My herald said your name is Gryffon," he asked curiously.

Heather removed her cowl and smiled at him. "Yes. I am Gryffon, Lady of Haven. Your son looks a lot like you, your majesty."

The only evidence of his surprise was the slight widening of his eyes. Then he recovered. "My lady, you honor us with your visit."

There was a question in his statement. It made Heather smile even wider, remembering Draco who usually spoke the same way.

"I was passing through and wished to meet you," she answered. That was the code, Draco had told her once, for 'let's talk privately'. She only hoped he knew it.

The glint in his eyes told her that he did. "You will join me for luncheon."

"Your majesty is gracious," she said.

Luncheon was served within an hour. Heather was given thirty minutes to wash from herself the grime of the road. It felt heavenly to remove mud from her braided hair. Then she twined a dark ribbon around it to accent the bright colors.

When the king called for her, she was led to a private room with the tables laden with food and wine. There was also a discreet sentry by the door. Heather knew that it was as private as she could get, under the circumstances.

"You wished to speak with me?" he asked.

Heather sighed. Even if he knew the pureblood subtleties, it seemed the king liked straightforward better. A Gryffindor at heart.

"What do you know of me and my siblings, your majesty?" she asked instead.

A frown crossed his features. "You learned from the elves and wished to pass it to other people. So you created Haven. There is also a rumor that you are descended from them, evidenced by your unchanging appearance."

Really? she longed to ask. She was incredulous for a moment, before she pushed it away. Though it irritated her a bit not to give proper credit to her true teachers, the Dunedain, she kept that quiet because she needed to tell him more important than her history.

"Haven City is for everyone, King Theoden," she clarified. "But I will not speak of Haven now. My family has an enchanted sword that only accepts certain characteristics from its wielder. Our bloodline has certain properties and through an accident, something awoke in us. For me, I could see the future."

Disbelief was in his face but he did not say anything. He was a kind listener and did not interrupt.

"My family had gifts, but what I received was something none of us had ever received," she continued. "And it frightened me. I nearly died with my fear. Elrond of Rivendell saved my life and taught me how to use it."

It was the matter-of-fact way she said it that convinced King Theoden, and the fact that her eyes were open in expressing her pain.

"A few months ago," she said. "I touched Prince Theodred's hand and I saw him die."

The king tensed and watched her with frightening intensity.

Heather plowed on, her voice steady and not betraying how scary she found his complete attention. "I came to Rohan to prevent that and have only managed to solve one-half of the problem. The other half is you."

Here, the king finally interrupted. "You are saying that I will lead to the death of my son." He sounded calm. Heather quelled the urge to apparate because his eyes betrayed his anger.

"Oh no," she said, trying to channel Luna. "Your son will die, killed by Uruk-hai. The only way to keep him from that death was for you to befriend the Dunlendings."

He was shocked. Heather wanted to go boneless with relief because that was better than his anger.

"What?" he asked in a rough voice. "That is difficult to do. They attack us and steal from our villagers."

A well of annoyance bubbled in her at the callous words. "And you never wondered why? The Dunlendings are warriors. Of course, they don't know how to survive for winter! So they had to steal from people. Mostly your people! Nobody ever taught them how to survive. The mountains your ancestors drove them into are practically inhabitable," she ranted, forgetting her caution and the fact that he was a king. "I had to teach them to preserve food, for Godric's sake!"

Did he smile? Heather couldn't tell. He was another one of those that wore a  _beard_.

"I will do as you say, Lady Gryffon," he finally said, sounding mirthful.

Oh Merlin! He really was laughing. Men!

But that solved Prince Theodreds death. Well, decreased his chances of dying. His future still loomed, bleak, but wasn't shadowed with an Uruk-hai carrying a double-bladed axe.

With that, Heather packed her bags and apparated to haven just as spring was starting in the East.

She arrived in Haven and was greeted by Guiomer with his arms around a  _woman_.

Heather felt her eyes narrow and Guiomer smiled nervously, a hand twitching towards the sword by his hips.

"Welcome home, Mater," he greeted in Latin.

"Anything you want to tell me, my son?" she asked.

He gulped.

* * *

**Omake:**

**When Felicia met heather and Draco**

"She's…small," Draco said, struggling for a polite way to state the girls height.

"I'm small but not deaf," Felicia said firmly. "Pleased to meet you, Lady Gryffon, Lord Hodur."

Heather cringed when she realized how rude Draco had been.

"Pardon him," Heather apologized. "He's actually being nice."

The girls' eyes turned wide with surprise. "He can be worse? I didn't know that was possible."

Bugger! Heather choked on her laughter. Felicia was good, if she knew how to deal with Draco.


	14. Relationships and Responsiblities

The girl's name was Cailyn and she had red hair. It seemed that the thing about Potters and red heads still stood. Maybe it only stood for the men?

Heather was torn between strangling her son, and hugging the girl. It was common knowledge that she didn't like being ambushed.

Her siblings must have seen her internal struggle because Luna tugged Cailyn to the kitchen while Draco grabbed her and Hermione sat with Guiomer.

"Are you in shock?" Draco asked her when she dropped her bags to the floor.

Heather shook her head. "I don't know. I mean, I've always wanted grandchildren, and now he finally has a girlfriend!"

"Technically," he cut in. "That's the wrong term. I think 'lover' is more appropriate."

Heather groaned. "Oh, Merlin! I still think of him as twelve! You're enjoying this too much."

Draco nodded sagely. "Yes, very much," he paused, and then peered at her face. "Has it sunk in yet?" When she nodded, he continued, "You ought to prepare yourself, then. He's fairly serious."

That stilled Heather. Draco didn't make exaggerations and he didn't do the dramatic. Out of all of them, Draco was the most practical, least dramatic and blunt, right next to Luna. But Luna had her moments of drama, and Draco had none…so far. That part really surprised Heather since he had been a dramatic arsehole in their younger days. Cue, Buckbeak.

So if he said Guiomer was serious, then it must mean her son was completely and utterly devoted to the girl.

Bugger.

But just to have no misunderstandings, she asked, "Like, a-large-probability-of-marriage serious?"

He patted her hand sympathetically. "There, there."

Heather resisted the urge to bury a knife in him. Condescending bastard. It would have been less annoying if she hadn't found the whole thing a bit funny too.

Hmm, maybe she really was in shock earlier.

"For the moment though," Draco said seriously, catching her attention. "The best thing you can give him is your blessing. It would mean the world to him."

Heather believed him. How Draco must have missed Narcissa, to say that so openly. So, she nodded at him as she used wandless magic to unpack her bags.

"I'll keep that in mind," she assured him.

"Good," he said. "Let's go down, I'm starving."

Heather managed a laugh. It didn't sound forced too, which Draco counted as a victory.

Luncheon would have been awkward if Guiomer wasn't so sincere and Heather was more vindictive. But she was the Girl-Who-Lived and even though she turned as soft as a marshmallow when faced with an ambush, she knew how to deal with surprises.

"How did you two meet?" Heather eventually said. "If I may ask?"

Guiomer rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Mater, you were gone for a while, the entire Winter! And when we sent an inquiry to King Theoden, he told us that you hadn't passed by Edoras."

Hermione interrupted. "We were as worried as anything, feather!"

"I wasn't," Draco cut in. "You were just being yourself, having no regard for the –  _oomph!_ " the latter was the sound of Hermione stomping on his foot underneath the table.

"Anyway," Guiomer said loudly, making Heather smile and Cailyn giggle. "I met her when I was depressed and wondering if I'd become an orphan."

Heather hummed, feeling slightly guilty for causing her son pain. Then she felt Luna squeeze her hand and felt better.

"Sorry for the delay," she sighed. "What I did was important, but the delay needn't have happened."

Concern was on all of their faces. Not many managed to delay Heather, after all.

"What happened?" Luna asked.

She twitched. "I'll tell you later. The details are rather boring." Translated, that meant, "Let's talk in the Sanctuary." Then she turned her attention back to Cailyn with a disarming smile. "So, Cailyn. How are you dealing with my son? Other people might find him hard to manage. We are very restless spirits, you know. It's in the blood."

It was pure curiosity. Cailyn relaxed at the friendly expression on her face.

"Well," she started. "I just give him a reason to return."

There was a silence at that, because it was fairly romantic, before Hermione cooed and Luna giggled at Guiomers red face. Draco scowled, "Sappy people!" he muttered. Heather punched him lightly.

"Guiomer," Heather laughed. "I'll borrow her for a moment."

Luncheon was fairly done, and Guiomer dithered while he watched the two most important women of his life walk towards the Dancing Myth. He wouldn't admit it, but he was glad his mother hadn't raised a fuss, despite being ambushed by his lover.

Luna was sewing a new cowl for Heather by the stairs and he asked her, "What do you think, Aunt Eilys?"

Luna looked at him with a smile. "Feather likes her. You did choose well, Guiomer."

He felt himself reddening. "It's too soon to tell that, Aunt Eilys," he spluttered.

She just laughed at him, a knowing look in her eyes.

* * *

Cailyn pinched herself several times while she walked with the Lady of Haven. It hurt, so that meant it was real.

Months ago, she wouldn't have thought she would eat luncheon with Lady Gryffon, Lady Enid, Lady Eilys and Lord Hodur, or be the object of Lord Guiomers complete attention. It would have frightened her if it wasn't so exhilarating.

"Haven was Lady Eilys' dream, Cailyn," Lady Gryffon was saying in a soft voice as they walked. "It took all three of us to make it. Most of what I do is to make my siblings' dreams come true." Gryffons eyes, that startling shade of green that she shared with her son, glanced at her. "I would do anything for my family, my dear."

A carefully veiled warning in a statement. Cailyn gulped.

"M-my lady," she stammered. "I would never – "

Lady Gryffon waved a hand. "Please. Cailyn, my son chose you. I don't have any say in his choices. That's his life," she stated bluntly, while Cailyn's mind whirled. "I found him, beaten near death. I gave him my blood and my life. I love him very much." Cailyn's expression must have been something, because Lady Gryffon patted her hand. "The rumors and stories never mentioned that, did it?"

Cailyn felt like she was looking at the world with clearer eyes. "So most of the rumors aren't true?" she asked.

There was mischief in Lady Gryffons green eyes as she laughed wickedly. "Oh, rumors! I love the rumor mill in Haven. Sometimes, when I am very bored, I make some up, just to listen to it mutate. I mention to a Training master that I vomited that morning, and by the end of the week, there's a rumor saying I am pregnant."

Cailyn could very well imagine the mischievous Lady Gryffon doing that just to find some entertainment. Against her will, her lips twitched into a smile. The Lady of Haven was very different from how her people viewed her. They said she was capable, serious and a warrior. They never mentioned that she had life, laughter and the same restless energy that her son had.

If Lord Guiomer had grown up with her, no wonder he loved his mother immensely. It must have been like growing up with a best friend.

When they arrived at the Dancing Nymph, Lady Gryffon seated her while she remained standing to stare at the statue.

"My son seems to love you very much," Lady Gryffon said. "And I will give him my support in this, just like everything he does." Then she directed those eyes back at Cailyn. "Don't worry, Cailyn. I like you very much already."

Cailyn felt her heart seize up. She had moved cautiously during the entire luncheon, praying and hoping that he lovers mother would like her. This was what she wanted, and it made her want to cry in relief, or shout with joy.

"Bu-but," she stammered instead. "I didn't do anything."

Lady Gryffons smile was kind. "Of course, and that it. You are yourself. You don't need anything else." Then her smile fell and her eyes turned back to the statue. "Haven was created to be a safe place. But I can't protect people from all pain. And the one thing that my son is vulnerable to are wounds to the heart. If you can help it, please don't break it."

"Oh, my lady," Cailyn found herself saying. "While I have his heart, he has mine as well. It would not be prudent to do so."

Then she registered what she said and turned red. She groaned when she heard Lady Gryffon laugh. Because that was a confession, if there ever was one.

"That's it with my motherly duties," Lady Gryffon said with a wicked smile. "Now, give me the specifics. When did he move in with you?"

The blush that had been slowly fading returned in full force and Cailyn could only pray that the Lady Gryffon would lose interest.

* * *

The repercussions of her excursion with the Dunlendings hit her that night. One of her old nightmares returned, one that involved fire, blood, tears and  _cages_. There were Dark spells and, of course, Bellatrix Lestranges laughter.

Heather woke up, gasping for air and her fist stuffed in her mouth to stifle her scream. It made her grateful that she always slept with silencing spells.

That was an old nightmare, inspired by a real memory of her, hanging in a cage and listening to Hermione being tortured by Bellatrix. It had nearly driven her insane, listening to the sister of her heart screaming in agony and unable to help.

"Feather?" a soft voice asked.

Heather nearly jumped in fright. "Luna?" she queried in surprise. "What are you doing awake?"

"I heard your soul cry for help," she answered, making Heather wince since she had forgotten Luna's gift. Silencing spells didn't do a thing for souls.

"Would you like to tell me about it?" Luna continued. She sat at the edge of Heather's bed and simply looked at her with curious and sympathetic eyes.

"It's the old dream, Luna," she answered, because lying to Luna was a fruitless endeavor. "The bit about the war."

Her silvery eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Does this have anything to do with why you were delayed?"

"Somewhat," Heather said. Her smile was weak and wavering. "It hurt to remember those parts."

Luna engulfed Heather in a hug and she used all of her will not to flinch. "Of course it always hurts, feather. But that's why I'm here. You shouldn't have to hide from me, or from the rest of the others."

It was only because there were silencing spells that Heather allowed herself to cry. It was a release from the backlash of memories and nightmares that she had pushed to the back of her mind the moment the Dunlendings bound her hands. Only her will and the knowledge that what she was doing would change the world made her not hate her captors.

"Would you like a sleeping drought?" Luna asked.

Heather had a moment of shock. "Draco gave them to you?"

Was that a smirk on Luna's face?

"He gave them to  _me_ , not to  _you_ ," she pointed out.

Ah! Hospital supplies. Sneaky friends, really. But doing so would get Luna in Trouble, especially if Draco found out.

"No, thanks. But I appreciate the offer," Heather smiled.

"I'll sing you to sleep then," Luna said and promptly started, her sweet voice rising in a wonderful melody.

Heather didn't have a single nightmare that night.

* * *

Heather had been gone for three months, close to four months. Her siblings had been very worried and their revenge, as Heather found with horror, was the sudden increase in paperwork. Also, she was slated to attend the committee meetings for a month and a half.

It was a double security that she wouldn't get into another mess, and that she could approve of half the committee proposals that needed her signature and no one else's.

Heather felt like banging her head on the nearest flat surface. She wanted to protest at the injustice of it but this was her dues being called in and she had to pay everything, including the interest.

On the plus side, she got to know her future daughter-in-law rather well. (Because no matter what Draco muttered about True Love, Guiomer still couldn't take his eyes off her, so there was a rather high percentage of the daughter-in-law part.)

Cailyn was a baker and kept insane hours just to serve her regular customer. Heather marveled at her dedication and appreciated her even more when she still found time for Guiomer, though she did wonder how their relationship would work.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Hermione remarked. "At least you know she has good time management skills."

Luna nodded in agreement. "Though," she commented. "Their child will be very well fed."

Mentions of children, grandchildren and intimacy in general were the surefire ways to make Guiomer blush. Heather and Draco kept at it while Hermione and Luna ignored it, taking pity on Guiomer. But if the two of them had mercy on Guiomer, for Cailyn, it was a complete and total grilling.

Hermione seemed to pull out all of her psychology books and Luna removed all filters from her bluntness. Heather admired Cailyn for bearing it without breaking a sweat. She traded bluntness right back and smiled through Hermione's loud psychoanalysis. By the end of the  _'Trial Period'_ , as Guiomer started to call it, Cailyn was calling both women, Aunt Eilys and Aunt Enid.

Grumbling, Guiomer handed Draco money, because he had bet against the three women ever becoming friends.

"I don't understand," Guiomer had grumbled. "They were giving Cailyn a hard time for nearly over two months and now they're suddenly friends?"

Draco tossed him an amused look. "Why are you looking at me?" he asked. "I don't look like a woman, do I? Ask your mother, if you want the headache."

Guiomer didn't, but only because his mother was busy, not because he regretted asking his question. Yeah, right.

* * *

The rest of them, including the city, slowly got used to the idea of Cailyn, if only because she and Guiomer seemed joined at the hip. Heather wondered if her son was using a time-turner because no matter how busy the both of them got, they still had time for dates. She couldn't find an explanation since she had no relationship experience, whatsoever. Draco, the only one with any inkling of what was going on, simply raised an eyebrow and looked at her funny.

It was during the time of the year, in-between spring and summer that Prince Theodred was ordered by his father to return home. It took Heathers mind off her son's relationship and turned her attention back to Rohan.

"Is everything alright at home?" she asked the prince as she showed up to bid him farewell.

The prince blushed. "Ah, no. my father is being cryptic, since it is a letter, but I don't think it is anything serious. He would have sent me an escort if that was the case."

Heather smiled at him. "I'll take your word for it. Don't forget what we taught you, your highness. And you don't have to worry about your cousins; the city will take care of them."

Prince Theodred gave her a look of deep gratitude. "My lady, I have never felt unsafe, or worried the moment I entered this place. So I will not start worrying about what-if's. I know they'll be fine." He smiled then. "They are, after all, under your protection."

Heather felt like wilting in embarrassment. "Theodred, really! You're making me blush!"

She escorted him to the city gates, with his cousins hanging onto his saddlebags. Heather knew she would see him again, though she prayed that whatever interventions she did would be enough to save his life.

* * *

Omake:

**A funny moment between a king and a prince**

"So," King Theoden said as he watched his son lean back sleepily. His belly was full and sated, body tired from several days of hard riding to return home. "I had a visitor while you were away."

The prince blinked sleepily. "Yes, father?"

"She called herself," he continued blithely. "The Lady of Haven. Her name was Gryffon."

Theodred sat up, sleep gone from him and alertness returning. "Yes, that is the name of the Lady of Haven." He gave his father a look, because he had read the prince's reports concerning the city of Haven.

"You never mentioned in your reports her youth, or her beauty," the king finally pointed out.

He spluttered. "Father, where is this going?"

King Theoden sighed. "Really son? Have you never thought about courting her?"

The prince felt like he was in a surreal dimension. This could not be happening. "Dad!" he finally cried out, standing up and ignoring the servant that dove forward to catch his chair. "That's terrible. She is twice as old as I am and has a son nearly my age. Really!"

The king laughed. "So? It happens all the time! Have you never entertained any admiration for the woman, then?"

He blushed. "Father, it was only when I saw her fight, then I did my best to kill that crush, because the Lady could behead me rather easily."

Theoden chuckled. "So could your mother. It's the warriors we seem to fall for, anyway."

Theodred groaned. "Father, please. Can we change the subject?"

"I can force you to do it, you know," the king pointed out. "Arranged marriages for the good of the kingdom used to happen in your great-grandfather's time."

Prince Theodred wondered if there were enough mountains in Arda to bury him in his embarrassment, or if he could possibly ever look at Lady Gryffon in the eyes ever again.


	15. Scheming and meeting old friends

The wards of Haven were designed for protection. It drove away the dark creatures with the menace they felt if they approached with the intent to poach. Those that did touch the city with their boldness would then be assaulted by images of their loves ones being tortured. If they surpassed that, the final defense would kick in and poison would spew from the runes. Harmful to most creatures but beneficial to the earth. Hermione called it vicious but the idea came from the Ancient Egyptian wizards, though they did use a sort of pressurized salt-based acid instead.

A hidden rune, which the others noticed but didn't remark about, was one that would tell Heather who entered her city. It didn't tell her their names, only their reasons for entering Haven.

So it was with surprise and trepidation that she felt someone enter Haven with the intent to look for her. It wasn't that rare, but it was the first time she had felt that person.

The committee, who she had been having a meeting with, were all startled when Heather cut in, since she rarely spoke in meetings.

"A guest is looking for me," she said to them. "I have received the gist of your reports. Is there anything else to be added?"

The Head of the Committee for Foreign Liaisons and the Head of the Committee for Trade and Industry both pushed forward one sheet of parchment.

"A proposal for a Winter Fair, my lady," they said.

"Send it to my office. It sounds promising," she replied. The meeting was dismissed and Heather nearly ran to an empty spare room to apparate to where she had felt the city's newest guest.

She was a few minutes late and missed the visitor. The gate guards were easy to question and they tripped over themselves to answer her, once they recognized her.

"It was several men, my lady," the gate guard answered. "Five of them. One of them be looking for you."

I know that! Heather thought as she thanked the guards and went to the Hostel they had pointed out. Quick questioning of the concierge told her their rooms. They had rented three rooms. All of them corner rooms with defensible positions and easy escape routes. She hadn't met them yet but this told her one thing: These men would put paranoid Moody to shame.

She wasn't worried though, because this was  _Haven_.

Heather knocked on the nearest room and the door was opened by a guarded man with rugged features. She smiled at him easily and his shoulders unknotted and relaxed.

"I am Gryffon, Lady of Haven," she said with a soft voice. "I heard from my gate guards that you lot were looking for me?"

He looked shocked. "That was minutes ago!" he exclaimed.

Heather had the urge to roll her eyes at him. All of the people in Haven knew that she mostly knew everything going on in her city, especially when she was in it. And there was the gossip and rumor mill to think about too.

"Word goes around quickly," she said instead.

He blinked several times and then allowed her to enter the room, where she almost gaped. All  _five_  of them were in the room. Why in the world did they rent three rooms in the first place? Then Heathers eyes started working properly and she realized that she knew one of them.

"Aragorn, you sneaky fellow!" she gasped.

He laughed. "Oh, Gryffon my friend! The look on your face!"

Heather wanted to hit him, but she gave in to the stronger urge and laughed instead. "Shocked me well enough," she agreed and strode forward to clasp his hands. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Aragorn turned to his companions. One of which, Heather was startled to realize, was a woman. She wasn't a sexist by any means but it was rare to find a female warrior outside Haven. Rohan liked female warriors well enough but they didn't allow them to do the offensive, merely the defensive. Shield maidens, their people called them.

"My lady," the woman moved forward, and Heather was pleased to realize that she found the voice familiar. "My lady, I was your student."

Peering closer at the face, she recognized the brown-green eyes and the round face.

"Why!" she exclaimed. "Fareas! You're still alive! I thought you had died when we received no word from you at all."

Fareas blushed. "My lady, I was lucky to have found them before I died. My companions were not so lucky. We got separated early on when I fell over a cliff."

Heather tamped down her concern, though she wanted to check if she was talking to a living person, not a ghost. She mustn't have quelled the urge that well, because Fareas hurried to reassure her.

"I'm fine, my lady. Bruised but fine. The fall wasn't that far," she said. "I wandered for a while until they found me. I just mentioned your name and they agreed to let me help."

Heather let out a breath. "For the love of all that's magic! You are the luckiest woman! Aragorn, did you come here just to return my stray lamb?"

The man chuckled. "Oh, no. and she is no lamb, my friend. What do you say to creating your own rangers?"

She felt her mind blank momentarily. "Say again?" she said reflexively. Then Heather realized what he meant and nodded. "Oh! That would be swell. Let's go over this tomorrow, though. I just came from a committee meeting and I feel that if I use my mind over this now, it will melt."

This made all of them laugh. Heather scowled at them as she left the Hostel to sleep off her slight headache.

* * *

Fareas was the only woman to venture out of the city in the group that consisted of men. They had sought the Dúnedain to help exterminate the evil that roamed the North. Among their group, only Fareas had found them. The fate of the other men was a mystery.

Heather narrated this to her siblings while nursing a strong cup of tea that fought off her sleepy yawns. She envied them since they could easily dose themselves with pepper-up. That was the one potion that Draco had her avoid. It made her pout a little at the injustice of it.

"I will tell the Order to watch out for the missing warriors," Luna said, standing up and clutching a piece of rolled parchment. "May I borrow Hafny?"

The owl in question drifted down from the beams of the ceiling at the mention of her name. When she realized that it was Luna asking for her and not Heather, she puffed up indignantly and stuck her leg out irritably. He looked in the other direction, the very picture of avian displeasure.

When he took off in a flurry of white feathers, Draco remarked, "That owl really is an arrogant and conceited little thing."

Heather grinned. "Careful, Draco. I wouldn't say that where Hafny can hear you."

The girls all laughed when Draco blanched.

Hammering out the new organization was easier since Heather didn't have to do a lot of things anymore, not with Guiomer taking over her duties. Hermione as well had it easier since Felicia started teaching and had created a system of teachers. For Luna, the only duties she had involved the Order of Healing and the occasional committee meeting. For Draco, he had managed to create a suitable batch of potions masters and had them teaching. That left him in the Research Department with Hermione since Meiran took care of that bit.

Their conference area for their ideas was usually in the Sanctuary, but with the Dúnedain, they had to make do with the large committee meeting rooms.

All four of them groaned as they sat down.

"I think we're having boredom by association," Hermione stated.

"Granger," Draco cut in. "Don't sugarcoat it. All of us  _hate_  these meetings."

Luna nodded. "So it would stand to reason that we would hate the place where the meetings take place as well."

Heather found the whole topic funny but didn't want to be castigated for it. So she turned her attention to the door and heard voices.

"Guests incoming!" she told them, making them stop bickering in English and instead continue bickering in Westron.

The urge to roll her eyes was getting stronger.

* * *

Aragorn watched the four of them create an organization very quickly, with the sort of efficiency that could only come from years of working together. And a bit of experience too. That bit startled him.

"You've done this before," he said, interrupting Lady Eilys from asking all the pertinent questions.

Gryffon smirked at him. "Of course we have. We spent several days planning for this city. And we also created the Order of Healers."

His mind whirled and Aragorn was slightly speechless. His men exclaimed in surprise.

"They are a great service to all people," one of the Dúnedain said. "They have saced my life twice over."

"Though," another one commented. "Why do they not accept payment?"

"Oh, they do!" someone else cut in. "They take only a little and give the rest to the beggars."

Lady Eilys rounded on Gryffon. "Feather!" she exclaimed. "I did not teach them that! And you're the only one I know that has a close contact with my healers."

Gryffon raised her hands in surrender and the sound of quills on parchment stopped for a moment as the other two watched with interest.

"You didn't teach them anything about that," Gryffon conceded. "And they came to me, asking what to do about the food and the money! I mean, there really are some people who don't accept no and it would be a waste to throw it, so I told them to give it to the beggars."

Lady Eilys turned to look at the blindfolded Hodur – how did he write if he couldn't see? – and the man shrugged, holding up two thumbs.

"She isn't lying. I, for one, would know. I mean, you have to admit that it wasn't a practical rule." Lord Hodur said.

The rest of the planning continued, and sometime in-between, Lord Hodur and Lady Eilys had an argument in another language he couldn't understand – and wasn't that a surprise since Aragorn had made it a point to study all of the languages in Arda. The only ones he didn't know to speak were Dwarvish, because it wasn't spoken by Dwarves in front of non-Dwarves, and the Black tongue of Mordor, because Aragorn wasn't crazy enough to try to learn the language of the Dark Lord.

The argument concluded with Lady Enids curls looking wild, reflecting her angry state, and Lord Hodur's hand messing up his hair in irritation. Then Lady Gryffon commented on something and all four of them relaxed again.

She binds them together, he realized. All of this city held in the hollow of her hand. And they allow her because she would never lead them astray.

Aragorn finally understood why he had allowed the girl, Fareas, to drag him and his men out of their patrol route to let him meet the Lady of Haven. Gryffon was his friend and a warrior. But the Lady of Haven was something she intimately embodied and you couldn't understand it unless you saw her in her natural habitat. Fareas had told him that he had the same presence.

Can I then take the crown? he thought. His doubts were being assuaged. That was always the effect Gryffon had on him.

"Aragorn!" she cried out, pulling him out of his musings. "Come on, I'll show you the city."

* * *

Hermione voted on the name the Organization on Human Welfare. Since the acronym spelled out O.H.W., Draco didn't agree. Organization for the Unified Charitable Humans was worse since it spelled out O.U.C.H. It lost by a landslide.

Really, there was a  _reason_  why nobody allowed Hermione to name  _anything_.

One of the more memorable ones was S.H.I.T., which stood for the Society for Healing and International Training. Luna was luckily being sensible and renamed it Order Training.

In the case of the new organization, Draco got fed up of Hermone's atrocious suggestions and simply called it,  _the Brotherhood_. The name startled Heather enough that she ended up agreeing.

The Dúnedain, who were watching the proceedings with some level of amusement, were startled when Hermione suddenly turned to them.

"You can replenish your supplies here," she said. "We're mostly done here anyway. Eilys and Fareas can take you. Feather set a discount for the rangers here."

Aragorn choked. "A discount? Truly?"

"Yes," Heather nodded, quill racing across the parchment and not noticing that the discount had shocked Aragorn. "I set it up in case you or your men ever visited. The stores that do that aren't taxed either, so you can rest easy."

The rest of them were wondering how they were going to prove they were the right people, because really, a bunch of sword-bearing, dusty and grim-faced men were easy to imitate. Before they could ask about that, Heather did a Eureka! pose and stopped writing long enough to pat down her trousers.

"Aha!" she remarked. "I knew I was missing something!" then she tossed Aragorn a large golden token engraved with a stag, an eagle, an otter and a hare. "Just show that. It's our joint seal of approval. Everybody knows how it looks like."

Aragorn finally broke out of his stupor by shaking his head. He chuckled, "Gryffon, you truly are an example of goodness. The elves do this as well but not quite so extensively."

Luna answered him. "Noblesse Oblige. It is not a language taught in Haven, but it means that those with the means to help out to help because it is their obligation to do so. And however the elves practice that, this is not their race, so they do not invest in it quite so much."

Draco's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "And no matter how much the elves teach and help men, they die rather quickly, right?"

"Hodur!" Hermione snapped out. There was an embarrassed and tense silence, and the sound of the quill on parchment stopped. Heather tossed the remaining paperwork to Draco.

"Git!" she exclaimed. "I change my mind. I'll take these people shopping instead."

With that, she stomped off, dragging all of them with her and leaving Draco alone.

Aragorn signaled his men to leave the two of them and he turned to her, "Your brother hit a nerve, didn't he?"

Heather sighed and covered her face with her hands. "He's an annoying bastard. I've been purposefully ignoring it, but we've been covering a horrible truth, Aragorn."

"Oh, my friend," he whispered. He felt like he knew what she was going to say and he dreaded hearing it.

"An accident made all of us freeze," she told him, feeling choked and tearful. "I have not aged for a number of years now."

Heather did not cry as Aragorn clasped her in a loose embrace, but her trembling subsided little by little.

"An eternal companion," he remarked. "You ought to marry an elf."

The idea had occurred to her, but…She would either be a cradle robber, or be cradle-robbed.

Bugger.

But the thought made her laugh a little and she felt better as she dragged Aragorn to the market place.

* * *

That night, Draco entered her room stealthily, his eyes open and uncovered by a blindfold. It shone like starlight.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Potter." He cut himself off, looking conflicted. "Heather," he said finally, sounding pained. "We're all we have. Forgive me?"

Heather felt herself melt and she ran to him, her hands wrapping around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"My son, Draco," she whispered. "My son! He will die before me. No parent should ever have to bury their son!"

He held her as she wept. Heather was so far gone in her grief that she didn't notice Hermione and Luna entering her room, their faces sad and solemn.

Though it really wasn't appropriate anymore, they had a pile-up for her sake and she slept through her tears without any nightmares that night, comforted by the knowledge that she wasn't alone, and would never have to be.

* * *

Omake:

**Prince Theodred discovers something**

Meeting the Dunlendings was surreal. For Theodred, who had spent most of his childhood life listening to strategies and patrols about how best to fight against the Dunlendings, to meet with them and discuss a compromise was bizarre. It made him itch for a good old fashioned fight.

Eomer, who was about to finish his schooling in Haven, would have been a bad idea for the treaties. He had a bad and quick temper. It was a good thing Theodred was older than his cousin by several years or else this thing will blow to kingdom come.

"Seedlings," the tribe leader was muttering. "To plant. That was what the Lady advised."

Wait, what?

"Pardon. I will grant you the seedlings, but what Lady?" Theodred asked.

A dreamy expression crossed the leaders face. "She come, taught us better life, gave us hope, protected us from the evil men and evil wolves. She be a goddess, princeling," the man said solemnly. Then he showed him a carving of the Lady and Theodred nearly killed himself in choking down his shock.

Because no matter how crudely done it was, the wooden carving showed the Lady of Haven.

For the love of the Valar, was he dreaming this?


	16. Unions and Surprises

The Brotherhood took most of her time and Heather used that to work around her grief. By the time Winter was over and Spring had officially started, Heather could finally look at her son without feeling the sharp pang in her chest.

She totally forgot several pertinent details, including the fact that her son had a lover. So she was completely shocked when her office door suddenly banged open and Guiomer raced forward, his cheeks flushed, eyes shining and hair going every which way.

It reminded her of when Guiomer was still twelve, when he used to run in her office in the same manner and then proceed to pester her on some sword moves he could try out.

Heather blinked several times to clear the image and looked at her impatient son. "Yes?" she asked.

"Mater," he panted. "I asked, and she said yes!"

It took Heather several moments to register his words, and then she realized what they  _meant_  and her jaw dropped.

"Wait," she spluttered. "Just to clear any misunderstandings. You proposed and Cailyn said yes?" At his fervent and slightly hysterical nod, Heather grinned. "What, you haven't planned beyond asking her?"

His entire face blanked and Heather laughed outright. She decided to postpone her paperwork for midnight since she had a son to spoil.

"You nutter," she remarked. "Now is not the time to panic. That comes later. Besides, you have two aunts, one mother and a future wife. I don't think you'll ever get to do much of anything."

"Really?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

Heather shook her head at him, completely bemused. But she couldn't help but understand his helplessness. It's not every day you asked the woman you love for her hand in marriage.

She took him to Draco's office, which was in the Research and Development Facility. He looked completely annoyed at the intrusion, but he straightened up once he caught sight of the smirk on her lips.

"Yeah?" Draco asked.

"I know you're busy," she started. "But this is something else. Can you take him out for a drink? We need to gather everyone and have a celebration. I need you to distract him." She jerked her thumb at her fidgeting son. "He just popped the question."

Guiomer's eyes looked glazed. Draco took a good look at him and understood Heathers amusement. He probably hadn't planned to ask and just blurted it out, and after an initial celebration with Cailyn, he probably realized what he'd done and went to his mother's office in a panic.

Draco's smile was shark-like. "I can't get him roaring drunk?" he asked with obvious regret in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "No. Even if you have hangover cures, which I know you invented, you don't want to see him drunk. Guiomer is a cuddly drunk."

He blanched and she laughed at him.

Once heather had left Guiomer in Draco's capable hands, she headed straight to Hermione's office. It was perfectly adjacent to Draco's office. She didn't even have to leave the building, which she appreciated.

"What?" Hermione asked crossly. Her hair seemed to be seething in her annoyance. It always made Heather wonder if Hermione's hair had a mind of its own. Draco called it the 'warning bells'.

"Let's go find Luna, your assistant and Meiran," Heather answered with a grin. "My son just proposed."

Hermione's eyes turned wide and she hastily scrambled after Heather, annoyance forgotten. Her eyes sparkled as she pestered Heather for details.

* * *

Nobody really found it to be news. They had, after all, watched and waited as Guiomer and Cailyn dated for a year and a month. Plenty of money changed hands though since a number of people betted on the wedding date. Heather had been banned from betting by virtue of her gift of foresight. She pouted at the injustice of it while her friends had laughed at her.

Cailyn found herself surrounded by Hermione, Luna, Meiran and Felicia. They chattered excitedly like magpies, laughing at her slightly flushed face. If Hermione wasn't included, it would have degenerated into feminine gossip. But since Hermione was there, the five women immediately started planning the outline of the wedding.

Because it was a party, no parchment or quills were produced, but they had narrowed it down to a Summer wedding with Gandalf the Grey presiding.

Initially, it was supposed to be a Winter Wedding, but Draco's practicality interrupted. Hermione's logical mind had to concede to the argument.

"We can't afford a Winter banquet," he said. "it's the time when we start using the stored food."

"Not Autumn either," Hermione added absently. "Since that's when we organize our hunting parties. So it's a Summer wedding."

A Summer wedding, because if they made it a Spring one, there would be a minor revolt among the womenfolk. And nobody wanted to see how Guiomer and Cailyn would fare if they waited for next Spring.

Draco grunted in agreement. Heather chortled at how mollified Draco was that his suggestion was actually taken into account.

"Merlin," he remarked. "I just  _set_  the date for the wedding. Nobody should hear about that. They're going to be magic-blessed pissed at me for making them lose their bets."

Heather gave up on trying to control her amusement and just laughed at him.

The matter of Gandalf presiding over the wedding was another thing. Once the suggestion was given, everyone turned to look at Heather since she was the only one with the means to contact him. She was tempted to make most of them loose their patience by acting stupid, but she realized that the Terrible Two (Phobos and Deimos), were actually behaving themselves so she stamped down on her mischief.

"Hafny?" she said instead. "Ask her. But personally, I think this'll be hard since she has a crush on Maethor."

Aragorn's black eagle-owl had taken to showing up once every other day. Initially, Heather had been worried if it meant Aragorn's safety had been compromised, but after asking Hafny, she had been relieved when she received the impression of Heather being silly and Maethor being a  _mate-mate-mate_.

It totally made her wonder how that happened since Maethor was technically Hafny's cousin. But they were  _birds_ , so…never mind.

But going back to the point, it was going to be difficult asking Hafny to deliver a letter since she tended to be a moody owl if Maethor wasn't there.

"Don't be ridiculous, feather," Luna sighed. "Really. They may be courting buy Hafny still has a covenant with you."

It was Meiran who answered for Heather. "Covenant and what-not, that owl is still the veriest bitch when that black one isn't around."

Draco was overtaken by a sudden and violent coughing. Heather, who was the closest to him could barely just hear the words, "pot, kettle!"

Heather managed to swallow her grin before any of the others could see the quirk of her lips.

* * *

It was a city-wide celebration, really. Heather was all but an inch from declaring it a holiday. Honestly, there were even drunks sprawled on the cobblestones.

With all her colleagues suddenly turning wedding-mad, it was up to Heather to commence clean-up. So she rolled up her sleeves, took out her coin pouch and whistled for some children.

It didn't surprise her to find a dozen children arriving. They were probably watching to see what she would do.

"My lady," the bowed clumsily.

"Any of you lot know where to find pails?" she asked immediately.

They nodded and she pushed them in the direction of the city well. The last child was nearing adulthood and she instead pushed him in the direction of a wheelbarrow. It was to cart off those that wouldn't wake up when splashed with water.

It was a hilarious way to spend her morning. There were several people who she saw in compromising positions and several more people who were completely naked. Upon questioning, they found that they had no memory of how it happened.

It wasn't the first time she had done 'city clean-up' but it was the first time she had done it alone.

By the time noon came, Heather's muscles were pleasantly sore from carting around drunkards. She was in a pleasant mood from torturing the ones having hangovers.

That's why it was quite a surprise for her to find a twitchy Cailyn in the dining room. It didn't match the pleasant atmosphere of the city.

Come to think of it, heather didn't get to talk to Cailyn in the pre-wedding party since Cailyn go mobbed by the other women.

"Cailyn, my dear!" Heather said with honest surprise. "You certainly look nervous."

Cailyn went even worse. "Oh, no. I'm fine, my lady," she answered. "I'm just waiting for Lord Guiomer."

Warning bells rang in Heather's mind. Since when did Cailyn call Guiomer by his title?

She didn't tend to interfere in these kinds of relationships, but if she could help…

"Cailyn, are you alright?" Heather asked. "The pre-wedding jitters are supposed to happen a couple of hours before the wedding, not months before – "

Cailyn suddenly jumped up, scraping her chair backwards and startling Heather. There was a groan of pain from someone by the sofa. That partly distracted Heather since that groan of pain meant that someone was hung-over in her house. That only lasted until Cailyn started talking.

"Why me?" she started. "I mean, I love Lord Guiomer and he surprised me yesterday and so I agreed. But now that I think about it, why me? There are half-a-dozen other women in Haven who want him."

Heather opened her mouth to interrupt, but Cailyn steamrolled right over her. Normally, that wouldn't happen since Cailyn was the courteous and polite sort. That it happened meant that Cailyn was truly distraught.

"I can't help thinking that he's selling himself short!" she continued. "He's kind, so maybe he thought I expected him to ask and did it just not to break my heart, but really – "

The mother in Heather couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Excuse me?" Heather cut in sharply. "Are you telling me that you think my son only asked you out of pity?"

There was a squeak from Cailyn that Heather took for a yes. Since her temper had broken, Heather was fairly frightening. Really, a reason why she became the Lady of Haven.

"I raised my son to respect women," Heather continued irritably. "And that aspect includes not stringing women along for his entertainment. I won't have you questioning that just because you have a low self-esteem."

Cailyn visibly calmed down and Heather pinched the bridge of her nose to hold back her sigh.

Another groan form the sofa and Heather's simmering temper cooled when she finally turned around and saw who it was.

"Hodur?" she asked incredulously. "What happened to your bed?"

His forearm was covering his eyes and he gave a pathetic whimper at the sound of her voice. He flapped a hand weakly in her direction.

"Shut up, will you?" he pleaded. "My head feels like the wrong end of a training stick."

Being a kind sister, she ignored him and pushed down the urge to bang pots and pans. It was a surprisingly difficult urge to push down. She felt saint-like in doing so.

"Are you fine now? Really?" she asked Cailyn instead.

She nodded. "Thank you, my lady."

Heather rolled her eyes and went up the stairs. She wondered why people thought she was good with  _feelings_. That was Hermione and Luna's area of expertise.

And then Guiomer nearly ran over her.

"For Godric's sake!" she exclaimed. Then she noticed what her son was wearing and her eyes went wide. "Take that off! Guiomer, you look ridiculous!"

"Mater, what?" he asked in a puzzled way.

The realization hit her when she sniffed his breath. "Are you hung-over, or did you return to drinking when you woke up this morning?"

His cringe answered her.

Feelings be damned. She knew what to do with panicky males. Heather grabbed his hand and wrestled off the ridiculous shirt he was wearing. Then she proceeded to drag him to the training court with a half-hearted wave to a startled Cailyn.

* * *

The wedding day dawned bright and clear. The sky was blue with only the occasional hint of clouds. The birds were singing and the flowers were cheerfully arranged.

It was the sort of thing that happened in fairy tales.

It was the sort of thing that made Heather slightly appalled since she felt like she'd wandered in a book, or used a Patented Daydream Charm and forgot about it. So she turned to the only one who understood her feelings.

"Pinch me," she begged Draco.

He gave her a disgusted look – how did he do that so effectively if he was blindfolded? – and said, "It's so…sweet." It was one of his politer adjectives.

She agreed with him, if only mildly. Heather had, to her horror, discovered that she had a feminine side that _liked_  the decorations and the festive air. She hadn't known that about herself and she liked to think that she knew herself pretty well.

By the front of the aisle, as though he knew her thoughts, Gandalf smirked at her. Hypothetically of course. She wasn't sure, what with his beard.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked as she swept in cheerfully. "By golly, I think everyone is here."

Heather and Draco exchanged long-suffering glances while Luna smiled serenely at them. Hurricane Hermione had at least settled down to a mild storm.

"Think of it this way, feather," Luna said. "Everybody will remember nothing with the amount of drinking that will happen."

"If you ever think about getting married, don't tell Hermione," Draco said. "I can't do this again. That woman is a menace."

Heather rolled her eyes at him. "You wuss. You're lucky to have tried her now that she's in her thirties. When we were younger, she was even worse."

S.P.E.W. was foremost in her mind as Draco shot her a disbelieving look.

"Quiet down, you two. It's starting," Hermione said.

The ceremony was beautiful. Halfway through it, Heather found herself crying. Even Draco cracked a smile. In essence, they had all forgotten the true meaning of marriage in the hustle and bustle of the preparations. They were reminded when they saw Cailyn's serene smile and Guiomer's breathtakingly happy expression.

It was a union between two people. That was the big and small of it. The gowns didn't matter. The flowers were just a small part of it. Heather smiled as she cried over that.

"You big sap," Draco said, but there was no sting in his words. He too had been reminded of the  _why_.

The ceremony ended in a big cheer as Guiomer kissed Cailyn tenderly.

"There's the dancing to look forward to," a guest behind her said.

"And the drinking," a familiar voice agreed.

Heather turned and saw Aragorn's smiling face. She gaped at him for a moment before laughing. "You crazy fellow!" she gasped. "You didn't say anything!"

He laughed with her. "I thought you might know," he gestured to his temples, indicating her gift. "And my men and the Brotherhood would have given me grief if we didn't attend."

When Heather looked around, she realized that the badge of the Brotherhood was prominently displayed by the city walls.

"The hospitality of Haven is hard to replicate," she conceded. "And you know I don't like to rely on my gifts."

Aragorn nodded. "True." He gestured to the ones behind him. "These are my brothers."

Heather blinked several times as her brain tried to catch up with her eyes. "Is that Elladan and Elrohir?"

"They usually go with us on patrols and they were with me when your letter came," he expounded.

"I've already met them," Heather said. She glanced around and saw the arrangement of everything. "This is the best part, you know."

"What is?" Elladan asked.

"Dragging unsuspecting males to the dance floor," she answered as she grabbed one of the twins to join in the dancing.

* * *

Hermione had met elves before when she had visited Heather in Rivendell, when she was ill and unconscious so she knew what she was looking at when she saw Elladan of Rivendell.

"Why!" she exclaimed. "What brings you to Haven?"

He gave her a small smile. "My brother received a letter – an invitation to this wedding and we decided to accompany him." He gestured to the dance floor where another elf was gracefully dancing with Heather.

Several synapses connected in Hermione's mind and she nodded. "You must be Lord Elrond's twin sons. Gryffon told me about you. Is it true that you rode on a mountain troll and drove him off a cliff?"

Elladan was surprised for a moment, before he laughed. "Yes, I did. A highly entertaining things to do. And you must be Lady Enid. The smart one."

A pang of pleasure rushed through Hermione. "Yes, I am."

He offered her a hand. "Can I have this dance, my lady?"

There was a moment of alarm before Hermione forced herself to relax and accept his invitation. She didn't regret it one bit.

He danced like he  _ate_  the music. He was graceful and strong. Hermione's new height complimented his so it wasn't awkward. It was a perfect fit. She could feel her very bones and her magic trying to bend themselves around him.

When the music ended, she was breathless and he was wide-eyed.

"Did you…?" she whispered because speaking would have destroyed the magic of it.

"Yes," he answered very softly. "That rarely happens."

Hermione could tell he was close to panicking so she allowed him to find his twin despite the numerous questions she wanted to ask.

* * *

Even if all of them wanted to join the drinking, they remained sober for Cailyn's sake. Because it was on the following morning that all of them went to the Sanctuary and showed Cailyn the truth of their world.

Guiomer had to be dosed with a small bit of calming draught while Draco complained of Mother and Son being rather alike.

Cailyn did panic for a moment before she saw Guiomer's fearful expression and she realized that nothing really changed. Only that she knew the truth.

"Oh," she finally managed to say. "That certainly answers some questions."

They all completely relaxed when Cailyn laughed and it did not sound hysterical.

* * *

Omake:

**How Heather's actions saved a Prince's life**

It was sheer accident, really. But the Dunlendings eventually found out that the one they worshiped as a goddess had taught him and they suddenly focused all of their attention on him.

It was unnerving.

"The disciple of the Lady," one of the tribe leaders muttered. "He be great too."

They all nodded solemnly.

"We shall place a guard with the princeling!" another one declared. "He cannot come to harm!"

They all yelled in agreement and banged their spears on the floor.

Theodred resisted the urge to concuss himself on the wall behind him. It would be as difficult as anything to explain to his father why he had a guard of Dunlendings following his every move.


	17. Compromise

Heather had to wonder if Draco was slipping potions in her tea as she calmly listened to Guiomer rant for the third time without feeling any headache.

Merlin, it had only been three months after the wedding and their arguments had started. Heather knew married couples had arguments, but this was ridiculous. Who had arguments every other day?

"Guiomer," Heather interrupted. "Just give me the gist of it. What  _exactly_  is the problem?"

He stood stock still before throwing his hands up in frustration. "She doesn't listen!" he yelled. Aggravation was in his every feature. He was the very picture of a very put-upon male. For Salazar's sake, he even got the perfect pose to go with it.

Luckily, Heather had listened to Hermione in lessons regarding psychoanalysis. The "he/she doesn't listen" thing was an old classic.

Firstly though…

"Calm down, will you?" she said mildly. Heather allowed a hint of steel to filter through in her tone. Guiomer knew her well enough to know that she was serious and on her way to be really annoyed. He gulped as he took a seat.

"The thing with that complaint," she continued with the same mildly threatening tone. "Is that it usually means the one complaining is the one not listening."

Predictably, he bristled at the implication.

"Mater," he stated. "I do listen to Cailyn."

Heather only raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she said. Her tone was as sardonic as she could manage. "Okay, so let's say I believe you. What has Cailyn been complaining about?"

Guiomer opened his mouth, no doubt to give a rude retort, and he stopped short. There was a listening sort of silence and then he flushed in embarrassment.

He cleared his throat. "Mater, I'm sorry. I know you've been busy."

She gave him a knowing look. "Go and find your Cailyn," she said instead.

She kept her composure until she was sure he was out of earshot. And then she collapsed on top of her desk, almost sending the papers every which way.

"I don't think I signed up to be a marriage counselor when I signed up to be a mother," she muttered to the Form of a Building Construction permit.

Sadly, the form didn't answer her.

At least her efforts yielded some success, however small. When she went home for lunch, Guiomer and Cailyn were being civil and not yelling at each other. It was an improvement.

"Who did – " Heather started.

"Felicia," Hermione cut in. "I know, because after Cailyn went to Felicia, Felicia came to me and borrowed my psychology books."

All four of them sighed in unison.

"Run this by me again," Draco muttered. "Just what makes this so bleeding difficult?"

With a long-suffering expression, Hermione repeated the explanation she gave to all of them the moment the arguments started, "It's just an adjustment phase, along with some minor issues that usually comes up. But it's not just that, Draco. It's the clashing of a different set of cultures. Cailyn practically raised herself so she's independent. Guiomer was taught to take care of women. So of course it would be difficult."

The couple in question didn't notice the whispered conversation between the four of them. They had gotten past their stiff awkwardness and were currently speaking in whispers and giggles.

Heather found it a smidge bit unfair for Cailyn. The girl was the one at a disadvantage whenever she and Guiomer argued. Guiomer had the security that he would always have Heather but Cailyn didn't have parents, otherwise known as the sounding boards for complaints. The only thing that comforted Heather in the inequality of it was that the assistants seemed to have found a liking for her and taken up the role of marriage counselors with aplomb.

"I'll be in the Training courts for the rest of the afternoon," she told the table as she pushed away her plate. "Anyone looking can find me there."

Hermione sent her a frown. "Really? Is that wise? I, for one, know that you haven't placed a dent in that paperwork I left you."

Several occupants at the table winced at the word paperwork.

"I'll pull an all-nighter for it tonight," Heather reassured Hermione. "I haven't overseen Eomer's training in a week. We mustn't make him feel neglected."

They all murmured in assent as Heather strode away from the table. Really, having foreign dignitaries visiting were a pain, but having foreign dignitaries learning from you was a backache, a migraine and an ulcer all rolled into one.

 _That, and I really need to let out my frustrations before I hurt somebody who isn't equipped to handle it_ , she added in her mind.

* * *

The Training masters all gave her a nod of respect when she entered the Training court. The rest followed with the same movement. Heather approved since she'd long disabused them of the notion of  _bowing_  to her. She didn't allow her men to get used to the idea of placing their necks in such a vulnerable position. She was paranoid like that, but it had earned her their respect.

"How's the little lord today?" she asked the Training master she'd assigned to Eomer. His name was Fallean.

Fallean gave a nod of grudging respect in the direction of Eomer. "Managed to disarm me. I made him work for it though. He's getting proficient with that sword."

Wow, that was news.

Heather felt like jumping even as she directed a smirk at Fallean. "Are you sure you don't want to retire yet, Fallean? A fifteen-year old disarmed you."

He gave her the look that deserved. "He's getting fast. Almost as fast as you. Whatever you've been teaching him is sticking in there and working," he said.

She allowed herself a momentary feeling of triumph for giving him a stronger measure of survival. Eomer's future wasn't as bleak as Theodreds but it was still pretty bleak.

"And the little lady?" she asked after a while.

A flush went up his cheeks. "She's getting better. Faster than her brother, even. She threw Hama on his back the last time they sparred."

There was a heartbeat of surprised silence, and then Heather broke it by chortling. Hama was one of her grumpiest and angriest Training master. He also used to be a thief and one of the best knife fighters in the entire city. On a good day, when his joints weren't aching, he could really make Heather sweat for a victory.

"Was Hama alright?" she managed to ask when she could speak without giggling.

"The only thing bruised was his pride," came the dry answer.

Heather stifled her amusement as she observed Eowyn moving against a Trainee older than her. Initially, she had wanted to learn the sword but it was all too heavy for Eowyn to lift. So Heather had her slotted in knife-fighting lessons and she had taken to it like she was born to hold knives.

"I'll take Eomer for the rest of the day. Thank you, Fallean," she told him.

The man nodded and left.

Eomer straightened up even as she approached him. When he looked like he was about to bow, heather raised an eyebrow and he nodded instead.

"My lady," he said. "I missed you to days ago."

She sighed. "Paperwork. Now, Fallean told me you managed to disarm him."

He gave a nod like an eager puppy.

Heather allowed a wicked smirk to cross her face. "Good. That means I can now upgrade those weights I gave you. You've obviously adjusted to them so you'll need further challenge."

Horror was etched on his face but he knew her well enough not to complain since she would probably – and sadistically! – double the weights instead of just adding to them.

She worked him until he could no longer stand, or manage to let go of his weapon. And then she turned to the next student – target, victim, really, the words were almost synonymous.

Eowyn had seen her coming and gulped. She had a moment's debate whether to run or not, but the Lady was  _fast_  and would work her to the bone either way.

* * *

Heather was very well acquainted with her office. It was sort of inevitable when she spent most of her time in it, right next to the Training courts. She could probably count the thirteen steps it took to teach her chair and the twelve steps it took to reach the File cabinets behind her.

She was also very well acquainted with her door and the methods people had in opening it.

Guiomer, for example, was responsible for loosening the hinges in it. Hermione had a brisk sort of knocking that would be just as brisk as her manner of discourse. Draco didn't bother knocking at all, but would immediately start talking. Luna was always special and would have that rhythmic sort of knocking that almost seemed to border on Morse code.

So when that really distinctive knocking sounded on her door, she immediately knew it was Luna.

"Moonbeam!" she cried out. "What can I do for you?"

Luna gave her an absentminded sort of smile and that set alarm bells ringing in Heather's mind. Luna only got that look when she had something seriously bothering her. It meant that she was thinking of so many things at once.

"Uhm, feather?" she started. "Kreacher hasn't been placing anything in the food, right?"

Seeing as Kreacher would rather chew on his own leg than hurt any of them…NO.

"Luna, what is this all about?" Heather sighed.

"Well, that's the most farfetched explanation I could think of, right next to Cailyn being pregnant," Luna said dreamily.

Heather hummed and then the words  _registered_  in her mind and then  _whoa!_

"Wait, what?" she choked.

Luna nodded, ignoring the cardiac arrest going on in Heather. "I'm hearing another voice near Cailyn. I thought I was dreaming again or that Guiomer's voice had changed. Then I realized it sounded like a new soul."

Heather felt like her brain had just changed to mush. Then something rewired in her mind and unmitigated joy filtered through.

"I'm going to be a grandmum!" she exclaimed.

Luna blinked, almost like she was shaking off sleep, and then she started smiling in a more sincere manner. Almost like she just realized what that meant too.

"Grandaunt!" she remarked. "That's just brilliant!"

They exchanged smiles and laughter. Heather abandoned work since she knew she wouldn't be able to remove that thought from her mind for the whole day and be as useless as anything.

"Let's get smashed," Heather laughed.

Even if Luna was just as giddy as Heather, she was still a Healer and she gave a disapproving frown. "No. It's bad for your liver. Let's go find a pastry shop instead and indulge in the sweetest thing we can find."

Heather pouted but acquiesced since she burned off thousands of calories every time she went to the Training courts.

And then in-between killing a cake and wondering if the baby would be a boy or a girl, a thought occurred to her.

"Hey," she said. "Do you think my dearest son knows?"

Oh, the probability of that was low. Even if Guiomer was an accomplished specimen of his kind, he was still  _male_  and they were unaccountably ridiculous and dense in those sort of matters.

As one, almost as though the same thought had occurred to Luna, they smirked at each other.

"Do you think?" Heather asked.

Luna nodded. "Let's go look for Hermione."

* * *

Even if Hermione wasn't a prankster by nature, she still had a highly analytical mind and she knew them very well. She guessed that letting Guiomer discover for himself would be more amusing.

"Besides," she said to a sulking Heather. "Waiting makes it better."

But what was a funny secret quickly turned real a week later when Cailyn became moody and irritable. Considering her sweet disposition, Guiomer was alarmed enough to take the matter to Luna. She had simply taken one look at his worried face and told him.

It made the women rather guilty that he didn't even seem angry at them, just extremely grateful for explaining it.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "She's just pregnant." Then his eyes widened. "Pregnant?"

Luna counted to ten…and then Guiomer's rapidly paling face turned red with happiness. Then she laughed outright when he reached to her and then swung her around like a pebble on a string in his exuberance.

When Heather heard it, she allowed herself to feel guilty for a second before shrugging it away. She knew her son's disposition best out of all of them and knew that he couldn't hold a real grudge even if his life depended on it.

Draco took one look at their faces and rolled his eyes. Then he patted Guiomer on the back and simply said, "Congratulations."

That set the theme for their party that night and it was filled with laughter. Cailyn, despite being the pregnant mother, was the last to know. Then she looked down to her slightly protruding stomach and said, "Oh!"

The twins were appalled. "You're spawning," Phobos said to Guiomer. "Soon, Haven will be overrun by little demons," Deimos added.

Dense demon was always what the Terrible Two had called Guiomer. Anyone else might have been offended, but Guiomer merely laughed and answered back, "Yes, spawning, otherwise known as reproduction. You ought to know, you're the Healers."

Then they grinned and exchanged back pats like the best of friends. The women looked at each other and sighed in unison, " _Men_."

* * *

The message came in the earliest part of the morning, when the sky was only turning a faint pink. It worried Heather slightly, because that meant the one that sent the message knew her well enough to know what time she got up for her morning ablutions.

"Who's that from, Hafny?" she asked.

The owl gave off the impression of horses and then let out a really imperious hoot as she dropped the rolled letter on top of her lap.

Rohan! Well, wasn't that worrying?

She read it and then sighed sadly. The contents were almost exactly the same as the one she received when the king called back Prince Theodred to Rohan. This time, it was for Eomer and Eowyn and she wasn't even nearly finished in training the both of them. Especially Eowyn. The girl  _thrived_  when given weapons and thrown along with hunting parties, never mind the fact that she was only thirteen-years old.

"I'll probably have to write a manual for the rest of their training," Heather muttered. And then her head shot up so fast that she almost got a whiplash. "In fact, why don't I write a book about it?"

Scrambling out of bed, Heather ran to Hermione's room and forgot why she was sad in the first place. Hafny, alone in Heather's room, would have rolled her eyes if owls could manage it. Instead, she picked up the enclosed letter that was meant for Eomer and flew towards Eomer's open window.

Really, it was a wonder that Heather  _managed_  Haven. But then again, she was friends with  _Luna_. Enough said.

* * *

OMAKE:

**Why Eowyn slammed a Training master on his back**

Eowyn was a gentle girl but she was also very vindictive.

It was rarer that it came out, but Eowyn had a sharper sense of justice than Eomer. She turned to watch Hama the Training master pick on a new Trainee that was younger than Eowyn and did not have the breeding of kings to help him.

Eowyn scowled. "I'm gonna make him hurt," she muttered.

Eomer gave her a skeptical look, but she knew he didn't believe she could do it. But she was motivated this time.

So when the Lady came to spar with the men, she watched how the Lady placed her feet and how she balanced herself to leverage against the bigger men.

When she finally managed to do it, Eowyn became the heroine of the younger Trainees.


	18. Is it courtship or entertainment?

The letters started arriving when it was nearly Winter.

Nobody noticed it at first, but that was just because of Cailyn's pregnancy.

Hermione had always been brilliant at keeping secrets, which was strange considering the fact that she couldn't lie to save her life. What Hermione  _could_  do was misdirect you and if you talked to her with the intention of interrogating her, you'd find yourself chatting happily about Ancient Runes and it's only when the conversation ended that you'd remember you were  _supposed_  to be interrogating her.

Draco was the first to notice. Inevitable since both of them worked closely together. Then he smirked when she received her fifth letter from an annoyed Maethor.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it.

"Don't say anything," she pleaded.

"And why not?" he asked. "Don't have a thing to answer?"

"No," she said with exaggerated patience. "But until I have some idea of what I'm doing, don't say a thing to anybody."

"I'll hold you to that," he said.

Luna was the second to notice and that was only because the eighth letter came when they were having dinner. Heather was absent on committee business and it was only the three of them.

"Hermione," Luna started softly. "Your soul is singing. Who's writing that letter?"

Here, Draco found a loophole on their earlier agreement and answered. "It's that elf she was dancing with. He's courting her."

A rosy flush went up to Hermione's cheeks. "No, he's not. He's just interested but he's from a royal line, so don't even think about teasing me about this."

Draco chortled but kept his silence. It was Luna that spoke, "You're just being silly, Hermione. I heard his soul when he danced with you and it sang the sweetest thing to yours."

Hermione groaned and did not make a sound for the rest of the meal.

Heather was the last to find out, and that was only because of the lack of opportunity. But a week after that embarrassing dinner (in Hermione's opinion anyway), Heather's bare hand brushed against Hermione's and she startled at the images she received. And from Draco's smirk and Luna's knowing twinkle, that future was not so far away.

"Well," Heather breathed as she rubbed her hands. "Anything you lot want to tell me?"

Luna beamed at her and Draco slapped a golden coin in Luna's open hand. Hermione groaned and covered her eyes.

"Nothing ever really stays private between the four of us, does it?" Hermione muttered.

Nobody could refute that. Among the four of them, only Hermione's gift was non-invasive of privacy. But that depended on your point of view, really.

"I've gotten used to it, Mione," Heather said. "So, want to share?"

Hermione wanted to pout since the misdirection did not work. "Elladan's been writing to me," she answered instead. "It's nothing much, just an equal exchange of information."

"Courting letters," Draco said in a loud whisper to Luna. "She's in denial."

Hermione opened her mouth, intending to say No! but that would just solidify his case. Either way, she was stuck in a corner. Damn purebloods.

"Draco, don't tease," Heather scolded.

Luna gave a serene smile. "It's not teasing if it's the truth."

Why were the twins picking on Hermione? Heather had to use a lot of effort in order not to smile. It did not do to encourage the both of them.

"Guys," Heather said softly.

They both dropped the act and instead gave Hermione their complete attention. Any other person would have been unnerved.

"What's he been asking you?" Draco asked.

She fidgeted. "What I wanted most in life…My favorite food. My stance on women being warriors. What we're on now is the history of the elves."

There was a silence.

And then Draco gave a sound of surprise. "Hex me! Those  _are_  courting letters!"

He sounded serious. Hermione only barely managed to stop herself from squeaking out an undignified  _what!?_  Instead, she took several deep breaths and asked calmly, "Expound please?"

The purebloods in the group exchanged glances. Heather was a half-blood but even she knew what was going on due to the lessons that Griphook had forced on her.

"It's a pureblood thing," Heather eventually said. "But it seems to apply in this world too. It certainly applied to King Theoden."

"It's like a prerequisite to courting," Draco said. He sounded like he was trying to dumb down the explanation of why the sky is blue to a toddler. Heather felt his discomfort acutely.

"A requirement?" she asked and Draco barely restrained his groan of pain.

It was Luna that sighed and answered, "No, not exactly. Let's say, you wish to jump in a pool of water. You know it's clean because it has a reputation. The sensible ones would test the temperature of the water with a limb. The reckless ones would just jump in."

Enlightenment dawned on Hermione's face and Heather stopped her sigh from coming out. Because it was just strange for all of them to know something that Hermione didn't. Like,  _the-world-is-ending_  kind of strange.

"He is kind," Hermione muttered. "He shared his love of music with me when we danced."

Heather wanted to give out feminine squeals of glee. Luna's twinkling eyes seemed to convey the same wish. Sadly, they had to restrain it or Draco would go bolt himself in his potions lab for a year. Ah, what they sacrificed for him.

"We saw that," Luna said.

"Mione, everyone saw you dance. And you only had eyes for each other. For a moment, I wondered if you were the one getting married," Heather said.

Hermione's face turned a really funny shade of red. "Don't be silly," she spluttered. "You can't marry someone you just met!"

Draco's smile was sardonic. "Technically, you can. There are marriages via proxy, you know?"

Hermione's hair reacted this time. It seemed to get curlier the more flustered she got. "Draco!" she said.

Heather really had to laugh at the expression on Hermione's face. That got her Hermione's attention.

"Feather!" Hermione sighed. "Really?"

She did her best to stamp down her amusement. "Sorry. I'll stop yanking your leg now. But, honestly, does he come across as a stalker, a creep, or just an interested man?"

Hermione's stiff hand gesture indicated the latter.

"Then we won't worry about it," Heather continued. "Just be sensible, alright love? Don't go and offer him the Elixir of Life."

* * *

The effect of these interactions showed themselves a week later, when the elven twins showed up.

It caused quite a stir in Haven. Because this time, the people were actually sober enough to notice that they were  _elves_. Luckily, it was Meiran who came across them.

"Dear Lady," Elrohir started. "May we trouble you to ask where we can speak with the Lady of Haven and her dear siblings?"

This was delivered with a smile that could have melted icebergs and cracked glaciers. If Meiran had been a lesser woman, she would have turned to a puddle of mush by his feet and entered zombiehood and became one whose days were spent in worship of him. But Meiran was tempered by Hodur, because no matter how surely and rude he got, he was still an incredibly handsome bastard.

"Don't bother," Meiran answered instead. "Once you entered this city, she knew you were here. Stay in one spot long enough and the children will drag you to her." And then she bustled off with her basket full of potions, leaving the twins blinking.

They would have followed her but the happy chatter of children drew their attention. The Lady of Haven was being tugged by the children towards them. And more importantly, in Elladan's point of view, the Lady Enid was demurely following behind.

It was quite striking to see the difference between the two women. Though both of them moved gracefully, indicating a certain proficiency in self-defense, there was a marked difference. Lady Gryffon moved with the self-assurance of a person who knew her place in the world. She also had several bulges on her person, indicating weaponry. That didn't deter the children though, who knew to avoid them.

Lady Enid moved like she a thousand other things in her mind. It did not make her absent minded, but rather, emphasized itself when her bright eyes darted around to take in everything around her, as though she could not get enough of the world. It was done without being conscious of her movements, which screamed of a subtle confidence. Strangely enough, it attracted attention.

"Both of you!" Lady Gryffon cried happily when she was within hearing distance. Her hands spread wide as though to engulf them in her embrace.

"We are sorry for the short notice," Elrohir answered after glancing at the mute Elladan. Discreetly, he trod on his brothers toes to jerk him out of staring. The tightening of his brothers mouth told him that it worked.

"We were in the area and wished to replenish our supplies," Elladan said. He managed not to sound strangled when Lady Enid flashed him a quick smile.

"What timing!" Lady Gryffon said. "I'll take you to the market. I'm under orders to go there as well." The mischievous twinkle in her eyes was the only warning Elrohir had before she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the market.

"My lady, what – " Elrohir started in protest.

"Come on, Elrohir," she interrupted. "What's the gossip?"

Elrohir was surprised enough that he almost stumbled. "Gossip regarding?" he asked.

In answer, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. A quick glance behind him revealed what she meant. His brother and Lady Enid were in a world of their own. He had never seen his twin looking that serious, or happy.

"Well, I have no knowledge of it," Elrohir stated. "My brother is being extremely secretive."

Lady Gryffon gave a very put-upon sigh. "That's just sad. Even Enid isn't telling us anything."

Despite the matter at hand, Elrohir found himself smiling. "You find amusement in their courtship?"

"Where else can I find entertainment?" she explained. "And it's all I have. The next thing I know, she'll be coming to me in the middle of the night, asking advice on something your brother wrote."

Elrohir laughed at that, since he could very well imagine the bright-eyed Lady Enid doing that. "You're a treasure, Lady Gryffon."

Lady Gryffon beamed at him. "You flattering fellow."

The tour was rather more intensive than what Aragorn showed Elrohir. That as understandable seeing as it was one of the Founders showing him the city. Through the course of it, Elrohir found himself commenting on the strange shape of it, and the lack of street signs.

"But of course!" Lady Gryffon exclaimed. "Haven was built with war in mind. Anybody, any army that tries to lay siege on us will find themselves having a hard time."

He agreed to that since the dead-ends usually had forty foot walls with small bolt holes for arrows.

"We have an office that deals with tourists," she continued. "But we make sure not to give them the general lay-out."

"My lady, you're as paranoid as my brother," he remarked, thinking about Aragorn.

She probably knew which brother he meant, because she beamed at him. "Now  _that_  is a compliment."

* * *

Hermione found Elladan to be one of the most interesting people she had ever met, and that was saying something since she was acquainted with Heather.

"I don't believe parchment and ink are easy to find in the wild," Hermione found herself saying. Inwardly, she wanted to smack herself for poking at him.

He cast her a quick smile that nearly had her giggling. Buggering hormones!

"No, they aren't," he agreed. "I think I fairly aggravated my brothers in insisting for frequent stops in all the towns we could come across."

Quick as lightning, he changed the topic.

"However are you related to the Lady Gryffon? If I may be so bold as to ask," he said.

Though Hermione found herself blinking at the topic he chose, she readily answered, "Not directly, I think. It's a long process to trace our family tree so we just call ourselves cousins."

"My lady Enid," he said suddenly, stopping near the middle of the road. "My brother Aragorn was told of your secret. He only told me because he caught wind of the letters. There was a breach of trust. Please, forgive me."

Okay, hold up.  _What?_

And then several processes occurred in her quick mind, happening so quickly that Elladan did not notice.

Apparently, Heather had told Aragorn of a secret and Aragorn, seeing Elladan's interest in Hermione, told him. And there were only two secrets that Heather could share freely without requiring the others' permission. One being Guiomers true heritage, and the other one…

"It's alright," she reassured the distraught elf. "I'm sure Gryffon won't mind. We always knew, eventually, that we would have to share that. Having you as one of the first to know would be our first trial."

Unfortunately, he mistook the word 'trial' for difficulty. Honestly, she sometimes forgot that the language had not yet evolved that far.

"It is not bad news, for me," he said quickly. "Indeed, when you live very long, you start to seek your own kind to prevent the heartache that is mortality."

Bugger. What a mood killer.

Hermione restrained her sigh, but something must have shown up on her face because he asked her, "My lady?"

"It is nothing," she said. "Now, tell me, what have you done these past months? Have you ridden any trolls?"

His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. "No," he said. "But I rode on a warg. I was nearly plunged into a ravine."

Hermione laughed. "That seems to be the theme in these sorts of happenings: you nearly diving off a high place."

Elladan cocked an eyebrow. "What's life without a little adventure?"

Merlin, he sounded like Guiomer, or Heather on a particularly restless day.

"Tell me about it," she demanded.

And, like a gentleman, he obliged.

The city was then privy to the scene of two oblivious people having a casual stroll. If Elladan had a bit more self-awareness, he would have noticed his twin muttering under his breath a couple of streets away as he dragged the supplies he managed to garner from the market  _by himself_ , but alas, elves were perceptive, not all knowing.

Heather just watched the entire thing with amusement.

* * *

OMAKE:

**The Reason why Rohan cursed and blessed Heather in one breathe**

Their Quartermaster read the manual that Lady Gryffon had sent home with them. Both of them had trained under her rather closely so their nervous fidgeting was rather understandable. The Lady was rather  _unpredictable_.

"This manual," the man said gruffly in Rohirric. "She made you follow this?"

Seeing as their orders from the Lady were to  _Not Look At It_ , and they had actually snuck a peek at the first few chapters, and adding the fact that this was their Quartermaster they were talking about, they threw away acting innocent and just nodded.

The Quartermaster smiled grimly. "Good. Then we shall have the new recruits practice these new drills. It has obviously made the both of you well enough to disarm three of my men in quick succession." Then he turned to his assistant. "Grimbold, go tell the smithy to weigh the new weapons with lead."

There was a cry of pain and agony that came from the Training courts since that day and both siblings were smart enough not to say that they had done that under worse circumstances, with a demon bearing a beatific smile and multi-colored hair watching them being pounded to the ground.


	19. Cause and Effect

The baby came in the time between Winter and Spring.

Guiomer wasn't exactly useless during the childbirth. Draco had slipped calming draughts in his hip flask and he carried out Luna's orders with startling efficiency.

Draco, in his role as the not-exactly-errant uncle, settled in for playing with a set of cards and a pair of dice. Occasionally, when the orders for linens, towels and hot water temporarily ceased, he distracted Guiomer by calling out the different sword sets. When he ran out of that, because his knowledge of swordsmanship only went so far, Draco started asking about herbs and fungi. It distracted Guiomer enough that he did not wear trench on the floor and he only fidgeted. Because even if he had his mother's gift, it was one thing to see it in the future and another thing to hold a baby.

Only Phobos assisted Luna, because someone had to stay in the hospital, and Heather held on to Cailyn's hand. Hermione, because Cailyn asked for conversation, talked about the different pastries that Earth had that Middle-Earth had not yet developed. Cailyn was listening because in-between gasps, pants and pushing, she kept saying, "Really? How do you make that?"

Among all of them in the birthing room, only Luna and Phobos really worried. It amused Heather even as she held back her wince of pain when Cailyn squeezed particularly hard. Hermione and Cailyn had impeccable trust in Heather when she said that it would be alright the moment she touched her bare hands to Cailyns'. That Cailyn did not let go was just another thing.

Luna was focusing on the birth and was at the same time 'listening' to the state of the infant and the mother, so she could be excused for worrying. It had nothing to do with her faith in Heather…Right. Heather chalked it up to disbelieving healers who had to see results.

And then a loud wail rent the air.

There was a shocked silence among the adults and then there as a sudden rush to see how he looked like. Even those not in the birthing room came rushing up the stairs to get a glimpse of the boy.

Heather used her speed but she only did that to snatch the child from Luna's bloodied arms and then she plopped him in Cailyns'.

"Well?" Draco drawled from the doorway.

Luna gave a satisfied smile. "I counted all toes and all fingers. Everything is there. No problems and no complications."

"Not that, Lovegood," Draco said. "Who does he look like? I have a bet riding on this."

The women, with the exception of Luna, sent him mild looks of disgust.

"He looks exactly like his father," Cailyn whispered in awe.

Everyone ignored Draco when he groaned.

"Looks like he fell asleep" Hermione pointed out. "Cailyn, my dear. You ought to get Luna to clean him up for now. Then you can cuddle him all you want."

Heather gave a sheepish laugh at the look Luna sent in her direction. Well, maybe she was a smidge bit impatient.

"What are you naming him?" Phobos interrupted before things could get too far out of tangent.

That actually caught their wandering attention and even Luna stopped folding blankets. Guiomer scratched the back of his head and blushed while Cailyn beamed at him. ' _Go on!_ ' she mouthed to Guiomer.

"We're calling him James," Guiomer said with his eyes on his mother, who dropped the roll of bandages she had been holding.

"What?" Heather asked dumbly.

After a quick glance at Phobos, who quickly pretended to be deaf, Guiomer said quickly, "We have two names, right? Almost everyone in this room has two names. I'm thinking that it could be like a family thing."

Everyone watched how Heather would take that. And then they relaxed when she gave a heartbreakingly bright smile.

"Oh, brilliant!" she gasped. "That's a brilliant idea." If her eyes were suspiciously bright, no one mentioned it.

"So that's his first name?" Hermione broke in. "And the second?"

"Yeah, uhmm.." he trailed off, looking extremely embarrassed. "His second name is Aedan."

Draco and Hermione broke into laughter even as Heather groaned.

"Really, son? I didn't brainwash you when you were younger, right?" she said.

"It's all those dragon stories," Luna said somberly, even as her lips gave an upward quirk. "Sir Aidan, dragon slayer."

"Well, I like it," Guiomer said defensively. "So stop making fun of my son!"

Okay, there was the temper.

Heather herded everyone outside to leave the new parents alone with their child. She stopped to give Cailyn a kiss on the cheek and to pat her son on his shoulder. Her last stop was to get her first really close look at Baby Aedan.

And in that same moment, the baby opened his eyes for the first time and Heather felt her heart squeeze. They were as green as her own, if a bit unfocused.

"Sleep well, James Potter," she whispered. "Sleep well, Aedan of Haven."

* * *

A month's paternity leave for Guiomer had Heather so busy that she barely had time to comb her hair. She had gotten so used to Guiomer taking up her workload that she had forgotten how tiring half of them were. Added to the rest of her other duties, it became a delicate art of juggling time, making her feel like a bloody circus clown. The only good thing she found in the entire thing was the discovery of several things that needed improvement.

Guiomer may have been good, but he still needed experience. A quick establishment of two assistants and three permanent errand boys had it becoming bearable.

It wasn't completely about work. Even if Baby Aedan could only wave his pudgy arms around and look cute, he was still a fussy baby. If he woke up and saw no one around him, he  _wailed_  like a banshee. Cailyn, being the brilliant mother, developed a method that would allow her to keep an eye on him at all times.

She commissioned Fenny the Fox to watch over him.

Right, maybe not exactly brilliant. But she offset this momentary lapse of judgment and commissioned Kreacher too. And he looked enough like a human that the baby did not wail.

These matters, however distracting, were not enough to take Heathers attention from the visions she was receiving. So she pursed her lips and went to her siblings to call for a real Sanctuary meeting – the first in nearly seven years.

[break]

The wards of Haven, the runes that were carved deep into the earth, took their strength from wizards. Mainly, the four of them. And recently, Guiomer and little Aedan. But if two or three of its creators were not in Haven, the wards were only at half of its strength. That was so that the ones who remained would not get their strength sapped.

Her idea was to tie the wards to Guiomers blood so that it would never fall, even if none of them were there.

"Blood wards," Hermione exclaimed. "I think there are several books on that in the Library."

Luna's protuberant eyes were closed and she nodded slowly, "Yes, because there may be times that one or all of us will have to leave. We have a contingency for the people."

All of them felt the same way, anyway. Because once you save a life, it was your responsibility to see them live.

"We already have the tunnel network under the city, and the courier service. And if you want to get down on the details, there's the hawk messenger birds," Draco pointed out. He was looking at several maps and had a dozen notes scattered all around him.

Hermione sighed and Heather wanted to fidget. The meeting had been the longest that all of them had ever had in the Sanctuary. Usually, most of their ideas came quick and fast, like liquid mercury.

"What we need," Hermione said as an idea occurred to her. "Is the security that the wards would not fall as long as Guiomer's blood line survives. Even if none of them are in Haven."

Okay, now that was a breakthrough.

"And in case there are bastards, or estranged children," Draco added with amused eyes.

"The wards need to react to their entry visibly or it needs to be felt by the rest of the wizards, so that no one can refute it," Luna finished.

Heather managed a weary giggle at that. The both of them really looked at all angles. Fussy purebloods. They probably had handbooks for that.

"It will not take all of its strength from Guiomers blood," Hermione pointed out. "As it is now, with only two of them, it will cripple them, especially Aedan."

Draco nodded. "Place a clause on the runes that would prevent it happening immediately. There must be a certain age, or it could be a gradual change."

And just like that, they were back on track. Parchment flew as they traded information and schedules via wandless summoning charms. Ink splattered on several things, ending up with inky casualties that were usually hair, or clothes. Body parts were not spared, eventually. By the end of it, only Draco's hair still shone with energy and cleanliness. (How does he  _do_  that?)

The end result, however, was completely worth it.

The modified ward runes ran on several pieced of parchment, connected by sticking charms. It encompassed half of their living room. It was also one of the most powerful things she had ever felt; it  _hummed_  even if it was only on parchment.

"Brilliant!" Heather remarked gleefully.

Only silence answered her and that was uncharacteristic of Draco to be so quiet. Turning to her siblings, she found Draco and Luna cuddled together, asleep. Hermione was no better since her head rested on top of a pile of books, light murmuring coming from her mouth.

A quick check to the window explained why. It was nearly dusk and they had started at around dawn.

With an affectionate sigh, she casted Cushioning charms in quick succession and then summoned several blankets. After she draped it over all three of them, she got her own and settled in the sofa with another sigh.

Sometimes, their new life was hard. But Heather would see Draco laugh, Hermione expostulate on a new theory and Luna's newer, more aware smile and she knew she would not change it for all the magic in the world.

* * *

It took them nine hours arguing and debating without break and only three hours to create the new ward runes. The application only took them five hours.  _That_  was an extremely long and exhausting process that Heather wanted to  _evanesco_  from her brain.

The effects of it, however, took them four days to recover from.

Guiomer, of course, noticed the changes immediately. He felt the tingle and change right down to his very veins. After some hurried explanation – and some minor worry because they completely forgot to tell him the details, only that they were adjusting the wards – his expression ranged from shocked to worried.

"Are you alright then?" he ended up asking them more than once.

Heather smiled at him. "We'll be fine. We're just a little tired." Then she frowned a little. "You're not angry, are you?"

It was  _his_  blood and nobody asked him. It made Heather a smidge bit guilty since it reminded her a bit of that Tournament fiasco and the Order of the Phoenix.

"My instincts told me," he reassured her. "It's fine."

Instincts was what he always called his own gift of foresight.

Baby Aedan had no complains and made their recovery very interesting. There were several incidents that occurred with the others in the four days they took turns in babysitting him. Hermione even took to the Sanctuary to recover herself in solitude. Heather suspected that it had something to do with books. The incidents regarding Draco and Luna remained a mystery but Draco twitched every time the little tyke got too close to a cauldron and Luna established a "no potions within reach of children" rule.

As for Heather, it was the first time she considered seriously cutting her hair after Aedan had choked on the fine, colorful strands after putting it in his mouth. It resulted in the baby regurgitating his breakfast all over her hair, and then bawling his eyes out.

" _You're_  crying?" she said, aghast. "What about  _me?_  This is  _my_  hair you vomited on, you fire breathing dragon!"

Heather ended up cutting it anyway after she shared a bath with Aedan, which he completely enjoyed. She swore he was bipolar.

"You're not developing psychological issues this early, are you?" she asked him seriously. "I swear I told Cailyn that Fenny was not a suitable nanny material."

Aedan only gurgled at her, wearing Guiomer's face and having Cailyn's smile.

Things eventually returned to normal and it soon became a common sight to see Aedan riding on top of Fenny, squealing his glee at being so high up. They all knew that Kreacher was invisible and watching over him because he never fell down, no matter how fast Fenny moved.

Still, it gave several of them gray hairs – figuratively and literally. It was one thing to know and another thing to  _see_.

But then all of that got temporarily pushed a bit to the side when Lord Faramir of Gondor arrived in Haven.

* * *

OMAKE:

**A New Citizen's opinion regarding Haven**

Cabhan was very happy he had chosen to follow the rumors he had heard when he was younger. It was said that Haven was a place to go when you're looking for a fresh start and so far, everything he'd heard about was true. Added to that, there was the feeling of safety that he got when he entered the city. This reinforced the stories too, that Haven had some of the best warriors that could fight on par with the elves.

"The young Lord has finally gotten an heir," one of the gossiping old biddy's said loudly. Everyone heard and Cabhan was curious enough to eavesdrop.

"Really?" another gossiping woman asked dramatically. "I wonder if the child can wield the Sword."

Even to his ears, Cabhan could hear the capitals.

He forged on to his new house, trying his best to ignore them. He was only a block away when he saw something that made him freeze. What was a fox doing in Haven? And a really large one at that?

And then he realized that there was a child riding on top of it like you would a horse. He blinked his eyes several times and found that the image was still there. Nope, he wasn't dreaming.

Okay, maybe Haven wasn't all perfect. It probably caused hallucinations, but that was okay. At least he was safe, right?


	20. Virtues

Prince Theodred was one thing, but Lord Faramir was something else, and Guiomer wasn't even thinking about the difference of rank, even if Lord Faramir was only the son of a Steward.

Maybe it was the difference of their blood or upbringing, but Faramir had a presence that Theodred lacked. It was subtle and non-commanding. In the company of other domineering people, it was easily discounted. But even if Guiomer was one of the aforementioned people, he had grown up with Luna and Draco and he knew that ignoring that would come back and strike at him later. Because there was a deep wisdom in his eyes that spoke of hardship that was tempered by a will of steel and the nobility of his spirit.

Merlin he was getting poetic. But he couldn't help it, not when he was faced by  _those_  eyes. And it couldn't be  _helped_  that it reminded him of his mother.

"Lord Faramir, right?" Guiomer asked cheerfully. "So, what brings you to Haven?"

Faramir's eyes assessed Guiomer's colorful hair, the sword that hung at his sword belt and the easy stance he held. "I have a letter from my father for the Lady of Haven," he said. His voice was cultured and very, very polite.

Guiomer's smile did not falter. "Oh, for the Lady Gryffon then? Since you've arrived at this time, you'll have to go to the Training courts," he answered, even as he gestured for Faramir to follow him.

After a moment's hesitation, he did and both of them went to the large courtyard that rang with the sound of steel and laughter. There were only two men fighting and there seemed to be bets on going, along with lighthearted jeers, sneers and jokes. His mother was at the very heart of it, laughing along with them, dressed in loose trousers and a large tunic. Several men saw him and gave several respectful nods.

"You are the Lady's son?" Faramir asked once he saw the Lady of Haven's hair. Truly, there was no mistaking hair like that.

"Yeah. Just call me Guiomer," he said easily. When they were close enough, he called out in Latin, "Mater, I need you."

Heather's eyes shot in his direction, assessed his position and then nodded. A snap of her fingers had everyone straightening up, even Guiomer. It was pretty instinctual, especially when you tried her training methods.

"You lot," she said. She did not need to shout to be heard. "There are three more orphans who want to join the Brotherhood. When are you holding your tests?"

"Soon, my lady," a rugged looking man answered.

"Make sure that you place it on the notice boards for the orphanage, Fallean, lest I really will think your age has made you forgetful," she said, making the men break into loud guffaws.

With her business concluded, Heather headed in his direction. Guiomer tried not to smile when Faramir caught sight of the knives strapped on her person and the sword she strapped on her belt.

"The Lady fights?" he asked with astonishment.

"You cannot find a better warrior," Guiomer said with familial pride.

Heather was close enough to hear that and rolled her eyes. "Don't be modest, my son. Six times out of ten, you can beat me," she said and then her attention went to Faramir. "That design…you're from Gondor, aren't you?"

Faramir executed a small bow. "Indeed, my lady. I am Faramir, son of Denethor, of the House of Stewards."

Heathers eyebrows steadily rose as Faramir spoke. "Denethor, Denethor," she ended up muttering. "Why does that name seem familiar?"

Guiomer gave a discreet cough. Really, his mother! "I believe Aunt Enid met him in her travels, Mater," he prodded.

"Oh!" she remarked. "That man with a mind sharp enough to beat Enid in chess.

As they spoke, they were headed towards Heather's office. Discreetly, in-between the conversation, Faramir gave her the letter. Guiomer's sharp eyes noticed but he feigned ignorance and kept chattering to Faramir.

Both of them engaged in several topics while Heathers eyes scanned the written letter. Guiomer knew her well enough that it was troubling by the way her dark brows furrowed.

In the middle of describing to Faramir the delicacy of Cailyn's pastries, Heather held up a hand. There was immediate silence.

"Lord Faramir," she started. "What has your father told you?"

The answer was hesitant, which didn't quite fit the quiet confidence he had been projecting since Guiomer met him. "That I was to deliver that letter for you, nothing more. And that the letter would explain everything to you."

Heather sighed. "That letter told me that I am to teach you in the way of the sword. But by the way you hold yourself, I can say that you already know how to wield one and don't need my help. Can you give men an explanation.

Faramir's hands were clenched until his knuckles were white and he looked paler than anything. He normally was a private person, but the lack of pity on her face made him answer against his will. "My older brother, Boromir, is father's favorite. I am, apparently, too bound in my books to bring his name  _honor_."

The last word was said with such vehement hatred that is sounded like a curse.

The awkward silence was broken by the door opening and Hermione and Draco stepping in, carrying several papers. Luna was behind them, holding a tray of cookies and tea. Guiomer scrambled to stand and help her serve everybody.

Heather slouched on her chair, her eyes closed as she contemplated options. The open letter sat on he desk like an omen, or a curse.

To take Faramir's mind off it, Guiomer introduced him to the newcomers and everyone settled in for tea and cookies, with some lighthearted topics. The letter was discreetly passed around and it seemed there was something with the way it was written that made all of their eyebrows crease.

When the plate of cookies was polished off, Heather sat up and finally opened her green eyes. "Your father said to keep you here for six years," she said. "His exact words were, 'keep him busy', I believe. However, your father does not have any power in Haven. You can stay in Haven, or you can go."

Color flooded his pale cheeks. "You truly are as gracious as they say, my lady. But my father's spies – "

He was broken off by Guiomer saying, "No. This town is named Haven for a reason, Lord Faramir. Anybody wishing you harm cannot come here and a person spying on you does not have your best interests at heart, so they cannot enter here as well."

It went unsaid that all of them, with the tweaking done to the wards, would feel the intentions of every person that entered the city. Nobody needed to hear that.

Faramir was too well-mannered to go boneless with relief, but it was a close thing by the way he nearly slumped in his chair.

Taking pity on him, Hermione gave him time to recover his composure by giving the papers she was holding to Heather for her signature. The pile was three inches high and Faramir was calmly sipping his tea by the time she finished.

"So what do you wish to do?" Heather asked.

Indecision was on his face. It wasn't obvious, but all of them had, at one point or another, been forced in situations that required reading subtle body language. Faramir was careful with what he gave away, but that was nothing compared to the Dark Lord.

"You don't have to decide now," Draco said suddenly. His face was just as perfectly polite as theirs but, for those who knew him well, they knew he was angry by the way his fingers kept twitching. Almost like he was itching to grab his wand.

"Thank you," Faramir said softly. "You are nothing like the rumors, my lady. You surpass them."

A quick word to the errand boy stationed outside her office sent Lord Faramir to the best Hostel.

But the moment the door closed and the ward for the one-way silencing spell activated, Draco stood up and smashed a window-pane with his magic. None of them startled because they had expected it.

Then he ran a hand through his hair several times, mussing it. A deep exhale later and he sat down again.

As Heather fixed her window, Luna asked, "Do you feel better now?"

He snorted. "No. his soul is  _beautiful_. His father is a bastard not to see that."

Draco probably was seeing parallels between Faramir and himself. That partly explained his explosion. The other part, as Heather liked to imagine, was because deep down, beneath all the hedges and thorns, Draco cared for other humans.  _Right…!_

"Well," Hermione put in. "We can't do anything about that. What we can do is to make his stay here as profitable as possible."

"If he'll stay," Guiomer said gloomily.

The window was fixed, Heather sat down again and said, "Oh, he will. When he gave me that letter, I wasn't wearing my gloves. Contrary to what you lot are thinking, his years in Haven will not be an exile."

As always, Hermione was the first to understand what Heather meant. Her brown eyes brightened. "Really? So what does he do then?"

Heather's smile wasn't kind. "From what I could see, he spent most of his time with you and Draco."

A contemplative silence, and then Luna laughed cheerily and Guiomer blinked several times.

There was annoyance mixed with gratitude in Draco's voice as he said, "Politics. You're telling me that I'm going to teach him politics."

"Philosophy and Pureblood Politics," Hermione added. "That's brilliant. He cannot fight his father in a battle of arms. So it's a battle of wits."

The open letter that lay on the table no longer seemed so ominous, or sad. It started to get the air of stupidity around it. Lord Denethor had sent his son in the wrong city for exile.

* * *

Heather's prediction came true and Faramir became a temporary resident in the city. He must have thought about it the entire night because he found Heather as she was doing her morning stretches by the Training courts. Seeing as no one was  _insane_  enough to follow her schedule, it was safe to assume that he didn't sleep the entire night.

Quick as anything, Heather slotted him with Hermione in the late morning and Draco for the entire afternoon. Early morning was hers.

"Your father sent you here with the excuse to learn the sword. So I will teach you to fight with anything."

His eyes had widened. "Anything?"

Her smile was mischievous. "The sword is not the only weapon. Anything is a weapon. The Dúnedain taught me that. And then I will teach you to be faster than anything else."

Needless to say, Faramir started to smile by the end of her spiel. He even managed to be enthusiastic as he was forcefully pushed to tour the city, along with instructions to find an orphan if he got lost.

"Your lessons start tomorrow," she said firmly. "So you better enjoy your last day of freedom."

He finally laughed and Heather considered it a success.

* * *

Heathers concentration was broken by her door opening, lowering the silencing wards that kept everything discussed in her office private. Without looking up, she knew it was Draco.

"Yep?" she asked as she scratched away with her quill.

There was no answer, and Heather's curiosity finally pinched her, enough so that she finally looked up.

And then she gulped.

Draco's anger had three stages. The first was the petty, childish stage where he hurled barbs and insults like free candy on Halloween. The second was where he got physical and needed to break something – or if you were unlucky – someone. The last was the one where a cool mask would descend on his face and he would channel that anger into producing terrifying results.

If you're lucky, you would only receive the first stage, which was his perpetual state anyway. If Fate hated you, you'd witness the third and hope that you weren't the target.

The look she was facing now was something she'd only seen once, when one of the Death Eaters had gone too far and tried to kill his mother as a taunt.

Come to think of it, Sirius had once told her that Narcissa Malfoy had the same temper.

"I need the file for the Trade Routes," he finally answered.

Heather resisted the urge to apparate out of her office. He was so  _calm_. It was a considerable contrast to the smoldering fire in his uncovered eyes.

She quickly summoned the pertinent documents, not wanting to get in his way. He caught the folder deftly, not even a tremor in his fingers. Merlin, it was as creepy as anything.

"Anything else?" she asked calmly.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Ah! Yes, you can give me leave to attend the committee meetings for the next three months."

Oh, Godric. This was involving the city. No matter how scary Draco was in his current state, no one messed with Haven, not on her watch.

Heather raised an eyebrow. "Just tell me this: will this hurt Haven, or its people in any way?"

Draco shook his head, a creepy smile on his face. "Oh, no. it won't. This won't even be noticed, but it will hurt Lord Denethor."

He spat the name out with venom and suddenly Heather understood what he was on about. Since she liked Faramir too, she didn't say anything until a though occurred to her.

"Draco," she called out as he was closing her door. He turned, his blindfold tied back once again over his eyes. "No matter what, remember that Faramir loves his father and his city very much."

He bared his teeth at her before nodding his understanding.

That night, when they were headed for bed, Draco slipped her a piece of paper to sign. It was an embargo on the silks of Gondor.

Heathers eyebrows steadily went up as she read the document. It was damaging to Gondors reputation as silk makers and would place a considerable dent in their economy, enough to be felt but not enough to cripple it. The best thing was that the rumor could not be traced to Haven.

There was also the small fact that the House of Stewards founded the Silk trade in Gondor.

She shivered because it was just the kind of vindictive shit that Draco would pull. She supposed she didn't need to ask how much he hated Lord Denethor.

* * *

OMAKE:

**What the was inside the letter**

_Gryffon of Haven,_

_I am pleased to hear the rumors surrounding your city and how well you keep the children of other nations. Rohan assured me that your city is very aptly named._

_My errant son, Faramir, is a thorn to my side. He constantly questions my orders and the gives inappropriate suggestions. It would please me if you would_ _break_ _him of that habit. Any method would be approved by myself._

_He will be fetched by the end of six years. Please, keep him busy._

_Hail_ _Manwë!_

_Denethor, son of Ecthelion II, of the House of Stewards of Gondor_


	21. Lessons in Torture

Faramir was more nervous about his first lesson with Lady Gryffon than he let on. The only thing that showed was sort of extremely calm face that he wore when he faced his father. She quickly dissuaded him of that.

"Don't be formal with me," the Lady said cheerfully. "I will put you on your back if you don't stop that."

He hesitated for only a moment and then the breath was knocked out of him and he was staring up at the barely pinkening sky, wondering how on earth he managed to get this orc to teach him.

"Well?" she asked, peering down at him.

Faramir came up swinging and she laughed as she parried it. He gave a lunge and she danced to the side quickly, faster than any human had any right to be and she grabbed his sword arm, a knife pointed to his throat.

"Yield?" she asked, still with the same infuriatingly cheerful smile.

"Yes," he said gruffly, massaging his hand. "How did you do that?"

"Experience, and a lot of training," Lady Gryffon said with a serious face. "My first opponents were not humans, Faramir. I was twelve when I first held my sword and I was just told to stick the sharp end in the snake. It was a forty foot snake too. And then there are the dark wolves, the trolls and the rabid bears. When the Dunedain came, I had to learn how to fight humans."

He knew she probably did it to derail him and it worked pretty well. But he didn't want to give her the satisfaction, not when she was clearly expecting his jaw to drop like an idiots'. So he pushed that thought to the side of his mind and told himself  _he'd think about it later_.

"I suppose they didn't have to teach you not to be intimidated? Forty-foot snakes are rather more frightening than any human," he said instead.

Gryffon gave him a disappointed look when he didn't oblige. "Oh, some of that. But their most serious lesson was not to underestimate humans like I had been doing then. Humans had something that animals didn't," she said.

"And what is that?"

"Wits, my dear lordship. Intelligence and wits," she answered with relish.

And for the next remaining hour, proceeded to pound that into his mind. She pulled him through stretches and laps and then laughed at him when he complained. When he was done complaining, she told him to do another set of them.

"What?" she asked at his incredulous look. "If you have the breath to complain, then you have the breath to run."

He ran. If he was looking like a limp noodle by the end of it, Gryffon didn't say anything.

"Don't sit down afterwards," she warned him. "The ground in the courtyard is cool at this time. It will give you a cramp if you do."

Faramir didn't nod. He didn't even have the energy to wipe his forehead. All the strength he had was o fill his lungs with air.

A wooden cup filled with water was thrust under his nose. He blearily blinked at his angelic-looking instructor. What if she spiked it with something else to increase his suffering? She was truly an orc in disguise.

"Go on and drink it, Faramir. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't do so through poisoning," she said irritably.

It isn't death that I fear, he though mournfully as he guzzled it down slowly.

His morbid thoughts didn't occur to his tutor at all. She carelessly flopped on the stone, wincing a little at the icy coldness of it and proceeded to smile at him with mischief.

"My lady, what?" he asked with trepidation. Smiles like that weren't good news. Not at all. Especially when it was aimed at him.

"You're going to run around the Training court thirty times every morning," she said with the same smile. "And when you can do that without stopping, I'll add another five laps. That will continue for a month."

Faramir tried not to get too dizzy at that prospect. And to think he agreed to this yesterday!

"Don't faint," she continued. "You are allowed to stop. You just are not allowed not to finish them."

"Punishment?" he murmured.

"A little extra weight you will be forced to carry," she said ominously.

Manwë! But he was Faramir, son of Denethor. He would not give up, nor give in to the urge to try and kill her. Nope, he would not want an international war happening.

"Of course, my lady," he muttered.

Lady Enids teaching methods were immensely different from Lady Gryffons. But he was probably biased seeing as he had nearly drowned himself in the bathtub when he had fallen asleep in the warm water.

She set him to reading dozens of book that made him question everything he had taught since childhood. Lady Enid sat patiently with him, her quill scratching away on paper. He only finished one book but he already felt like he had been made to consider everything.

"Is indoctrination present in Haven?" he asked her.

Her smile was serene and very pleased with him. "Yes. But we try to minimize it. It is inevitable though. Haven boasts itself on safety, but we try not to make our people complacent and unafraid. Fear teaches you important things. If you are unused to it, then you cannot move in-spite of the fear."

Faramir's mind worked quickly. "Is that why you created the Bortherhood and the Order? To remind people of the danger?"

"Yes. So Lord Faramir, tell me. Does Gondor have any doctrines that they have slowly imparted on their children?" she asked.

Her voice was gentle. She wasn't cynical, despite the topic on hand. Lady Enid had accepted doctrines as part of life. It was something he hadn't known until that moment, and his shock was understandable.

"You do not need to answer me," she continued. "But that is something for you to think about."

He gave her a deep bow, the same one he had given to Lady Gryffon. Thank you for sharing your knowledge and time, my lady."

Lady Enid looked startled, and then she laughed. "No, do not thank me. You should use the next few hours wisely. Hodur is going to wait for you in his office after luncheon. His office is opposite mine."

Faramir left, his mind going in different directions and so distracted that he almost ran into a wall. If he had looked back, he would have seen blind Lord Hodur slink into Lady Enid's office. He didn't though, so he also didn't hear Lord Hodur ask if he had been drugged, considering the glazed look in his eyes.

* * *

It was, perhaps a complete accident that Lord Faramir wandered into Cailyn's bakeshop for his luncheon. But then again, seeing as the city was Haven, coincidence was hard to discount.]

Faramir didn't know who she was, initially, even if she knew him. But most of the people who entered gave her respectful bows, going as far as to call her Lady Cailyn. It didn't take long for him to notice, or to connect the dots.

"You are the spouse of…" he trailed off, wondering how to phrase it without sounding ruder than anything.

"Lord Guiomer," she supplied. "How do you find your soup, my lord?"

While his mind was furiously turning out why a lords wife worked in a bakeshop, his mouth answered automatically, "Perfectly well, though it seems a bit bland."

She gave a small sigh. "Oh, that. Unfortunately, there always seems to be a quarrel regarding the salt. I just place a small portion of the salt on the table."

It perfectly solved the problem, even if it was slightly unconventional. Faramir found himself relaxing, even if it was in such a public place. Lady Cailyn just did that to people. She could make people at ease just by being in their proximity. It was a gift.

The rest of his luncheon was spent pleasantly chatting and pondering on topics that made him laugh. And then he asked, "How did you meet Lord Guiomer, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Her brown eyes sparkled. "Everyone knows how we met, but no one knew that he was in mourning then." At his look, she expounded, "Lady Gryffon had vanished for six months, following a vision that led her to Rohan. No one was certain if she was still alive."

"A vision?" he asked.

Surprise was on her face. "Oh, didn't you know? Our Lords and Ladies come from a long line of blessed ones, a secret family that just came forth. My bet is something on the elves, but anyway, they each have gifts that they share to Haven. The most known is Lady Gryffons foresight."

"Like Elrond of Rivendell?" he remarked before he could help himself.

She beamed at him. "Exactly!"

And since he was already in the bulk of it, he might as well get some good done. "Isn't that gift of foresight a myth?" he asked.

"Every myth has some order of truth," Lady Cailyn recited. "Lady Enid taught us that. And Lady Eilys taught us never to disbelieve because it is better to believe what is unfathomable than be astounded when confronted by the truth."

That was unbelievably logical, even if it was as outlandish and ridiculous as anything. After his mind wrapped itself around that, he eventually laughed.

"Haven seems to have a way of shattering the foundations of my life," he said after his laughter had tapered out.

Instead of being insulted, Cailyn  _preened_. "Thank you!" she said happily. "We do try our best."

* * *

One thing that the luncheon with Lady Cailyn taught him was not to expect anything normal, or mundane in Haven. ordinary chores had the sudden magic of being extraordinary. It would stand to reason that what would have been ordinary lessons would become extraordinary. Case in point, Lady Enids lesson.

Reading had never been so phenomenal, or life-changing. Even the dragon stories of his childhood did not compare to it.

In the case of extraordinary lessons, Faramir did not count Lady Gryffon. Form her brilliant hair, glittering green eyes and the very  _life_  bursting out of her, he knew that every moment with her would be an eye-opening experience, be it paperwork or conversation.

Maybe he admired her a little, but who wouldn't? there was something about a woman who could disarm you while being gracious about it. But then again, perhaps it was the complete compassion in her face and the fact that, when he looked into her eyes, he saw a kindred soul.

Luncheon, however, ended and Faramir found himself once again in the Research Department, this time inside Lord Hodur's office.

The difference was startling.

What had dominated Lady Enids room were parchment, scrolls and books. It was spacious and messy. Faramir had known, since he was very well acquainted with his brothers own habits, that the mess had its own place and any attempts of cleaning it up would result in scrolls getting lost instead.

In Lord Hodur's room, there were jars and packets of different brewing materials. Some of them were indecipherable blobs of black while others were simple weeds that Faramir knew he always stepped on. There were only two bookshelves and one held journals while the other held heavy tomes bound in black leather.

"I'm here for my lesson, my lord," he called out.

He became aware of sheaves of paper being rustled several times. And then Lord Hodur emerged, scowling spectacularly.

"You are quite late," Lord Hodur said. "But never mind that. Look to my desk and tell me what you see."

Was it wise to speak about seeing with a blind person? Faramir did not know, but he obliged anyway.

"It is a chess set," he said with some trepidation. "My father plays it sometimes. Usually against the Prince of Ithilien."

"Do you know how to play it?" came the dreaded question. Since there was no use going on about distracting him, Faramir sighed with resignation.

"No sir. Well, I know how to play it but I don't understand half of what I'm doing." Okay, it finally cmae out. Lord Hodur will inally let him out of the office in disappointment.

And then Lord Hodur snorted. "I'm not surprised. My cousin Enid was the one to teach Denethor how to play. His mind was sharp enough to defeat her within a week of learning it. I learned that those who learn quickly cannot teach those who learn slow. You are fortunate, Lord Faramir, that I was one of those who learned slow."

That startled him. Hodur looked like someone who learned quickly.

"Take a seat and arrange them," Hodur snapped as he rustled papers. "And don't be slow about it."

Faramir scrambled to obey. He got the feeling that Hodur didn't like him very much.

"We'll start with the pawns then," Hodur said with a definite sigh in his voice. "Think of them as farmers, peasants and small soldiers with little intellect and no hope of gaining a command. They are usually the ones we sacrifice."

The mention of sacrifice startled Faramir. He opened his mouth to object, maybe question, but Lord Hodur had continued to the next piece and was describing the rook with the same bluntness and comparison to reality to make sure it stayed in Faramirs brain. It definitely worked since it was morbidly disturbing.

"Questions?" Hodur finally asked, pausing long enough to drink from a cup of tea that Faramir was  _sure_  wasn't there before.

"You mention sacrifice," Faramir quickly put in. "Isn't this simply a game? But either way, if It was true in this life, isn't sacrifice the last thing you should do?"

The cup dropped to the saucer with a clink. Faramir flinched because he was expecting it to break.

'A young mother, standing in front of a crib, sacrificing her life so that her cold corpse would cover the child and keep her from harm," Lord Hodur stated with detachment. "Is that something to avoid? Ah, only if it wasn't inevitable. Do not be naive, Lord Faramir. There is ignorance and there is innocence. I will try to preserve the latter."

Faramir worked that out and blinked at his stupidity. Okay, so maybe Lord Hodur didn't hate him outright.

"Alright," he said, acquiescing to the other mans wisdom.

Hodur nodded briskly. "Good. There are two ways about it. It's either die uselessly or die with meaning… In a way that will never be forgotten by anybody. Then it is no longer called death, or sacrifice. It is called martyrdom. Or if you prefer, symbols."

"Symbols?"

He nodded again, pouring himself a second cup of tea and taking a bite out of a biscuit that  _really hadn't been there_  minutes ago. "Symbols are dangerous, Faramir, especially if they are people. Unmoving objects that become symbols are free for interpretation. But that is limited. People, however, say things. And the things they say are more dangerous than any knife, or poison in this world," Hodur said. "Can you think of someone who is a symbol?"

Confronted with a question, Faramirs mind turned blank. "Err, uh,. A moment please."

"By all means," Hodur responded dryly. "But it would help you if you look closer to home."

Oh!

Faramir perked up. "Gondor then. Well, there's my father and my brother Boromir."

"Good," and Hodur flashed him a small and rare smile of approval. "In that point a king is like a symbol…"

They went back to chess and it consumed Faramirs thoughts so completely that he did not notice the position of the sun until he found he could no longer look at the board without squinting.

When he mentioned this to the blind man, he just shook his head and smiled, saying, "Eat your dinner. Sleep well and try not to forget everything you learned today."

For Faramir, it had been a day of exhausting learning. For his three tutors, it had been a day to test their students' limits and see how far they could push him.

It was a very profitable day for all parties involved.

* * *

OMAKE:

**When Boromir found out**

Boromir was tired and irritable with the lack of sleep. After a spending nearly a season with the captains of Ogsgiliath, he just wanted to see his bed and his brother.

It was with great surprise, however, that his brother's room was empty. His clothes were packed, as was his sword. And in the small cupboard by the door, the saddlebags were gone.

Boromir felt his heart clench. Before he had left, his brother and his father had been at each others throats so the absence of his brother made him nervous, just a bit.

And then he finally heard where his brother had been sent and he yelled at his manservant to pack his saddlebags and to ready his horse. If his brother was hurt, he'd just break whatever was holding him and drag him back to Gondor for his own safety.


	22. Against the Current

Teaching Faramir had blind-sided Heather to several things she was keeping an eye on. He was a joy to teach because he never gave up and he never complained after that first day…he just made faces at her, which was more entertaining than anything he could say.

But going back to the point.

She had forgotten that she had tuned in her subconscious to watch out for visions regarding the Dunedain, the Order and the Brotherhood. A teensy tiny part of her was also watching over Rohan and Gandalf the Grey, to make sure they didn't get into mischief.

No matter how much fun it was to teach Faramir, her responsibilities came first. So when the vision came because of the letter, (Heather had stopped calling these things accidents. Accidents and coincidences kept happening to her anyway and she needed a new word to call these things.) she turned over Faramir's training to her son.

Initially, Guiomer complained in keeping her insane schedule and he didn't want to do it because he'd had enough of it from his own training with her. Heather was quick to point out that taking over Faramirs training would mean getting up with Cailyn in the morning since Cailyn, being a baker, kept an even more insane schedule than Heather. A look entered his face then and Heather quickly ignored it, despite the amusement. No matter how funny it was to tease Guiomer, there are truly some things a mother is not supposed to know about her child.

"And where are you going?" Hermione asked after she had broken the news to her family that night.

"I'm going to look for Aragorn. I saw something, and its important that I tell him about it," she said.

Draco scowled and Luna's eyes were large on her face. Even Guiomer was frowning as he held Aedan in his lap. It was evident that all of them didn't like the idea of her leaving Haven. That was understandable since the last time she had left Haven, it had been for Rohan and the Dunlendings and they had received no news of her for nearly six months.

"Do you need Hafny this time?" Draco asked.

"Yes, I'm bringing her with me," Heather said, trying not to roll her eyes at the relief on all their faces. "Honestly, you lot! You're acting like I'm not the bearer of the Elder Wand."

Guiomers frown deepened even as Luna put in, "But you sometimes forget, feather. You are more in the public eye than the rest of us and you have gotten used to only using your own physical weapons."

Heather drew herself up, feeling irritated. That seldom happened and it was even rarer when it was directed towards Luna.

"And it seems that all of you have forgotten the devastation that our magic can do to a battlefield," Heather said softly, steel in her voice. "This world is new. From the books we've read, it's only in its Third Age. Blood will wash out with the rain and vultures eat the corpses. But excessive magic causes almost irreparable damage to the environment, and to the very earth itself. Are you lot asking me if I am willing to damage this clean, new world?"

Cailyn, who had never seen Heather irritated or even angry, was pale. Her hands shook as she placed her hands on top of Guiomers shoulders.

Draco glared at her. He was almost immune to her temper since his was even worse than hers.. "The magic you're talking about was used by the Death Eaters. Don't go all righteous on us, Potter. Lovegood is as concerned as the rest of us. There is no need to bloody bite our heads off," he said, nearly snarling.

Aedan was listening and that was curtailing Heathers language, otherwise, it would have degenerated into a cursing contest between her and Draco.

"Don't you use your Merlin-blessed cursing at me, Malfoy. There's a child listening. And just because we don't use it doesn't mean we can't slip-up. Why do you think I'm careful?" she snarled.

They glared at each other and it was very frightening, especially since Draco had taken off his blindfold, showing his very expressive silver eyes.

The atmosphere was broken by Aedan's gurgling laughter as he played with a spoon. The tension went out of everybody, though some shoulders were still stiff with residual irritation.

"Both of you are insane," Hermione remarked. "Actually, all of you are insane. Feather, what has you so bottled up?"

Everybody could almost visibly see Heathers hackles go up again. Luna stopped that by placing a hand on her forearm.

"Stop that, feather. Your soul is distressed. Stop avoiding it and don't even brood about it. Tell us what you saw that made you so angry and sad." Luna's voice was soft and gentle. But even with that gentleness, there was a hint of a demand in it.

Heather stood up abruptly, mussing up her hair with her hands as she grabbed it in her frustration. "I'm not  _brooding_ about it, for Salazar's sake. What I saw…" Another tug at her shortened hair. "What do you lot know about the history of the Dunedain?"

Everyone turned to look at Hermione, who shrugged. "Not much. Their records are incomplete. The ones who know the most about them would be the elves," she said.

Heather gave an almost hysterical laugh. "There was an island in the West in the shape of a star," she started breathlessly. "The people there were men, but they were the favorite, the blessed of the gods of this world and so they were given extraordinarily long , the Valar who fell into darkness and hatred, seduced them with power and it corrupted them all except for a few. Eventually, the island was sunk into the bottom of the ocean by the gods after they had done the most evil deed. The elves and the survivors call that lost island as Atalante."

There was a brief moment of shocked silence, and then…

"Atlantis!" Hermione gasped. "Sunk to the sea by their own doing."

Draco looked puzzled. "Atlantis?"

Hermione launched into a small explanation of the mythical island. Draco then shrugged and said, "It sounds like Avalon to me."

That was a very derailing statement for those who had read the books. Even Luna was leaning forward in interest.

"Isn't Avalon a mythical island that holds the body and sword of King Arthur?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked even more puzzled. "No. It's an island of blessing, where the greatest magical deeds occur. It is said that Morgan le Fay and Merlins battle on it sunk the island."

A debate would have started but Cailyn cut in saying, "Can Lady Gryffon continue? I would like to hear about the Dunedain."

They turned to look at her in surprise and Cailyn shrugged, giving a wan smile. Under the table, Guiomer squeezed her hand in approval and Cailyn sat up straighter.

"There were two groups that survived, good and evil. The uncorrupted ones remained friends with the elves and they eventually recovered. The north is theirs after the fall of the Northern Kingdom. But what I saw…" Heather struggled to say it. Her anger and despair of it made her nearly incoherent. "The Dunedain don't  _look_ like their descended from noble kings. Some people don't trust them and over the years, that has spread and things have become more and more dangerous for the Dunedain."

Comprehension was on Hermione;s features and Heather could feel the vindication of her anger being  _right._

"So those faithful men are now dwindling because of the paranoia and the suspicion that they receive," she continued softly. "They are unable to rest in comfort. And so they are getting smaller. Within another eighty years, there won't be any of the Rangers left and all that there is would be myths and legends."

Her last words were said with such grief and anger that they all fell silent, sympathizing with her. All of them knew how much she loved the Dundeain. There was always the special kinship one felt with ones teachers, after all.

"What are you planning then?" Guiomer asked.

A muffled sigh. "I don't know. One of the main problems we have is that the Rangers don't have a place to stay in that they could let down their guard. Like…like…" Heather trailed off, looking like she had been cursed, or charmed. "A safehouse!"

Dinner was already done and it was quick work to turn the dining table into a command table. Within a second, Hermione had already summoned parchment and quills. Luna trotted off to talk to Fenny for a moment and the fox vanished, returning with a map of the north clamped between his jaws.

Cailyn and Guiomer stood to the side in astonishment, clutching their son. They knew about their planning skills, having glimpsed a small part of it in the wedding, but that was all Hermione. This time was all four of them and the efficiency of it was astounding.

"Don't act like ninny's," Draco snapped when he noticed them. "We have work to do. She's leaving tomorrow and we need to get this done."

With a startled laugh, they joined the conference around the table, the map spread on top of it.

"How many Rangers exactly are there?" Hermione asked with exasperation.

"Nearly a thousand," Heather answered promptly. "But they are very scattered. Aragorn knows where they are since he makes the patrols and the schedules. Halbarad knows the other patrol routes better than Aragorn sometimes, but there's Maethor for that."

Draco gave a sharp nod. "Then we can't exactly plan where to place them since we lack that bit."

Luna's brows were furrowed. "We can plan what to make. These safehouses…what exactly will be inside it?"

"A bed," Heather said quickly and with startling fervency. "Days of traveling in the wilderness and you'd kill for a bed as well."

Hermione exchanged looks of amusement with Draco and Luna. "Err, feather?" she said. "Normal people would look for a bath as well."

To everyone's amusement, even Guiomer was confused. It was obvious that he agreed with his mother on the point of the bed.

"Baths really aren't all that important to survival, Hermione," Heather explained with exaggerated patience. "You can add that in, however."

Noticing the crease on Hermione's forehead that indicated irritation, Guiomer cut in before things could turn into an argument, as conversations were wont to do with the four of them involved. "Food?" he said. "Clothes? Weapons and medicine?"

Hermione gave him a quick smile. "Basically, anything that warriors will look for when going inside a town. But the food…and the medicine? These are perishables and stasis charms only get removed when the person is another wizard."

Here, Luna perked up. "Actually, I might have a solution for that. Some of my Master Healers wish to have less strenuous activities since they weren't young when they joined. There are maybe ten of them that note that in their last report. I will have to check again to be certain of the number."

"But humans don't like to be alone," Heather pointed out. "If you're by yourself, you'd end up talking to no one and that's the first sign to insanity."

Luna pouted and Hermione interrupted this time. "That's a great idea, Luna. I'll just solve that loneliness bit."

Draco laughed at Hermione's harried tone. "That's already solved. Some of my brewers want to go out of the city. They want to experiment on other ingredients that are only found in the wild."

"And that's that," Luna said sternly. She shot Heather a look of childish triumph that made everybody laugh.

"What about replenishing the supplies?" Cailyn asked softly.

There was a moment of puzzled silence, and then Guiomer said, "Kreacher can do it. Aunt Eilys kicked him out of cleaning the hospital after she made washing the linens a punishment for the trainees. He's been complaining about it."

Everything was almost set. A quick sketch showed at least eight beds and a storeroom. There was a small kitchen and a dining table. Lastly, there was an outhouse and a bathroom. After some thought, they added a fireplace.

The idea was to show the sketch to Aragorn and see if he liked it. They were  _his_ people after all.

Hermione smiled in satisfaction of a job well done and then a thought occurred to her. "What about the wards?" she asked.

Everybody groaned. Oh, Godric! Some people were perfectionists.

"Can that be done later?" Luna pleaded. "I do not think I can muster the energy to think of Runes."

Hermione acquiesced, but only because even good-natured Cailyn was scowling with sleepiness.

* * *

Over the course of her journey, there was a liberal use of the Point-Me spell and the guidance of Hafny. Nothing could go wrong. However, since she was headed North, there was an increase in the number of dark creatures she encountered.

For the first time in a while, Hafny prodded Heather to suit her up in the sharp battle armor Heather had commissioned for her. There were the sharpened metal blades that attached to the claws and the small knives that clipped to the wings.

Almost like the years between their last fight together didn't exist, their bodies moved in tandem and worked with each other.

When they did find Aragorn, the man was so surprised at their sudden appearance that he almost forgot that he was in the middle of dispatching a troll. Hafny was quick to slice the tendons of his ankles and when the Troll fell with a roar, Heather beheaded him.

"Gryffon?!" he exclaimed. "What in the Valar…"

Heather grinned, finally understanding why Aragorn loved to surprise her in Haven. "You should see your face," she said. "I needed to talk to you."

The initial shock had worn off by then and he greeted her with enthusiasm and some laughter. "Whatever you need my friend."

She beamed at him. Both of them lived dangerously and even if Heather was safer than Aragorn behind Havens wards, they both treated each meeting like it was the last. It was by mutual agreement that they wouldn't mention that out loud.

They shared a meal and exchanged stories. Aragorn learned of Aedan and gave a quiet guffaw as she described the birthing process. She learned about the last mischief his brothers got into and the recent loss to his men.

"That is why I came to you," Heather started. "I received a vision when I touched your last missive."

He nodded. "Is that why you did not answer? That worried me, you reckless thing."

Heather was contrite. "Sorry, but what I saw…I felt like I had to tell it to you in person and not in letter."

That was a very serious statement coming from Heather and Aragorn sobered up accordingly. "What is it?" he asked softly. "You can always tell me, my friend."

She took a deep breath and plunged. "If nothing is done, Aragorn," she whispered, her eyes sad in the firelight. "Your Rangers, the Dunedain, will become myth in the near future."

The wood he was whittling was held in a tight-knuckled grip. The carving knife was set down carefully.

"You are certain?" he asked. His voice was rough with an emotion she could not decipher in the darkness.

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life," she said with conviction. "If we do not act now, within another decade, it will be too late to change anything."

He took a breath and let it out again. He picked up the knife and his hands did not tremble. He resumed his whittling and Heather admired his composure for a moment.

"What must I do?" he asked, and his eyes looked straight at Heather with trust and resolve.

That trust went right into Heathers soul and she knew that failing Aragorn was not an option. She had received his faith and she would do her best to prove that faith true.

Without hesitation, she showed him the roll of parchment she was carrying. She was confident as she explained the plans to him, but inwardly, despite how wary she was of gods, she sent them a silent prayer.  _Her_ faith didn't matter. Whatever gods Aragorn believed in were the ones that mattered.

Everything else had to be considered, after all. And even if she didn't like gods, she knew that they were there.

* * *

OMAKE:

**When Everyone in Haven realized something**

There was a standard in Haven regarding their Founders' personalities. Lord Hodur was the serious one, Lady Eilys was the compassionate one, Lady Enid was the wise and motherly one and Lady Gryffon was the god-like one with the ability to charm people to do most things her way.

However, on that Memorable Day, which no one will speak about, everyone saw a different side of their beloved founders. It was rather understandable since they were holding trial for a person who abused his own wife.

"Puilen, son of Kuilen," Lady Gryffon read from the parchment with a furrow on her brow. "You are charged and found guilty of abusing your own spouse. This is a direct violation to the very Charter that Haven was founded on, that is: That all citizens should live in freedom and safety, as long as that freedom and safety does not infringe upon the rights of others."

She looked up from the parchment and took in the silent audience. A silent audience was a dangerous one, since that meant a more volatile mood. No surprise there since Puilen's wife was very popular with the citizens. And Haven was supposed to be a fresh start for most people.

"She was asking for it," Puilen snarled; spit flecking out of his mouth.

Lady Gryffon was about to say something about  _that,_ but Lady Enid beat her to it. The wise lady had been sitting quietly to the side, her eyes grave as she took in the scene and at the mans words, her warm brown eyes turned cold.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked. It was quietly said, but everyone heard it anyway. There was a dangerous gleam in Lady Enids eyes. "You say that a woman who is emotionally adjusted, properly educated in the standards of my school and has a proper job was asking for a beating from a man who does not have a proper job, never managed to finish the standard of education that I set and has a drunkard for a father and a suicide for a mother? I would like to think that you would have learned at least something in the two weeks you spent in my lessons before you stopped attending,  _idiot._ "

The last bit was said with such scathing derision that it made several people flinch. Lord Hodur and Ladys Eilys and Gryffon were smiling.

"I wonder how you managed to snare her, a shining example of what women should follow. I taught her myself so I know that she has common sense," Lady Enid continued, standing up. It could be noted that Puilen was leaning backwards and looked like he was about to soil himself. "I do understand that you have a friend in the Brewing department."

At that statement, everything turned cold. Lord Hodur stopped smiling and instead stood up.

"Cousin," he said, his voice grave and serious. "I believe that this is my area now. Thank you for pointing that out."

Lady Eilys was also standing up and spoke, "No need, brother. The culprit is there."

The man she was pointing at was running away, the clear accomplice of Puilen in brewing a love potion for his wife. Lady Gryffon jolted into action, her movements fast and efficient. The man was thin and obviously spent most of his time sitting down. Lady Gryffon was  _fast_  and didn't run out of breath easily. The take down was quick and made several people wince at the roughness of it.

She used the mans momentum to turn him up and over to slam him to the ground. There was an audible  _crack!_ as his arm broke.

"And that concludes things," Lady Enid said with a creepily serene smile.

Nobody in Haven thought about placing their Founders' personality in boxes anymore since That Incident. They were simply too unique to be put in standard.


	23. Legends, Superstitions and Sayings

The Rangers rarely gathered and when they did, it was for very important reasons. The last time it was done, it had been for the battle of the Northern Kingdom. Their arrival had seriously turned the tide of the war before a betrayal led to its downfall.

What was happening around their small campfire was just a small gathering but it was a gathering nonetheless. Heather had travelled a lot and seen a number of Dunedain, but she had never seen them this many in one place at the same time.

"My friend," Aragorn whispered in her ear. "What's wrong? You look uneasy."

Heather gave him a wan smile. "You haven't heard the stories, have you?" she asked. "I'm not the superstitious sort, but the last time your people gathered…" she allowed the sentence to trail off, letting him get the idea by himself.

He smiled, even as his eyebrows lifted. "Ah! I see what you mean. But don't worry; we get these things done quickly. We don't like to gather."

Heather allowed his words to comfort her, even as she smacked herself for being superstitious. Instead, she took in the fifteen men that gathered around the campfire, with different ages and grim faces. Fifteen of Aragorn's most trusted men.

She marveled at the noble spirit that lurked in their eyes and the discipline that they held themselves with. It was that discipline that she tried to teach her men, but it was something that you had to gain by experience and not by tame lessons she gave to them. What caught her attention most was the way they deferred to Aragorn.

They didn't say it in words, or in their tone of voice (which seemed to be set in the default of gruff and unused), but it was only seen when you looked closely at their body language. The Dunedain didn't have time for time for titles but they were polite and gave respect where respect was due.

Heather envied that so much since she tried and failed to pound that in her men's' brain.

"You called?" Halbarad asked after a miniscule nod of acknowledgement in her direction.

Aragorn nodded. "Gryffon had a vision," he said. He explained it simply and succinctly, not hinting on the darkness of the vision but concentrating on the promise of safety. Both of them had agreed that sharing  _everything_ would not be wise. Some futures were just not meant to be shared.

"These safehouses," a man said slowly, his tongue testing out the new word. "How safe – how do you expect to make it safe? Any defense can be overcome by the right methods."

Aragorn shot Heather a concerned glance when she closed her eyes. Externally, she was calm and controlled. Inwardly, she was a mass of nerves and contradictions of emotions. She wanted to hug something, yet at the same time her back straightened, taking its strength from her old argument that the only people whose opinions could hurt her were all in Haven.

Before Heather had left, Hermione had brought up the idea that in the process of warding the safehouses, they would have to tell the Dunedain the truth. They were the type of men that would accept nothing else but the truth for their own safety.

And if the problem arose in convincing them, Heather would have to summon her siblings. However, there was Havens safety to think about and Hermione calculated only a twenty minute window. Not nearly enough time to convince a group of cynical and highly paranoid men if they were already on the disbelieving, but then again…

"My siblings and I," she started softly but firmly. "We're not from this world. We came from another one and in there, we were at war…"

As she spoke, she gauged their expressions. Since they were very controlled in their body language, it was some effort to note it but they at least, weren't showing disbelief, just surprise and, in Aragorn's case, smugness.

She ended it with, "And we came here, and we saw how  _new_  the world was and we wanted to help it on its way, so that it would never go the way our world did…and if it ever would, it would be a long time away."

Heather stomped down the urge to fidget as she felt the weight of their gazes. "Well?" she asked. She didn't sound nervous, so that was a good thing.

Aragorn broke into a smile. "I guessed something different and special about your family, but I never factored in another world," he said.

She was curious as to why he was exuding smugness during her explanation but she never thought he'd made his own theories.

"Y-you," she spluttered, blinking. "You believe me? And you aren't angry?"

They all gave her small smiles and to Heather, who knew how rare those smiles were, felt like she'd just been hit by an overpowered Cheering charm. Several of them at the same time.

"We understand, Gryffon," another man said. "When you first came, you must have been afraid and confused. And then it became a habit to hide it."

She lowered her eyes, hiding the sudden need to cry. She breathed deeply for a moment, grateful beyond words, is so many ways that she practically  _itched_ to hug something – anything.

"As I was saying," Heather said, returning to the previous topic while clearing her throat. "With our magic, we can make it safe. Haven is protected by those same wards. But with the multitudes of safehouses, there would be a different set we will use. If you wish, we can tie it to your blood and your heritage, so only Rangers of the North can enter."

The last was only a suggestion and it was quickly negated by all of them.

"No," Halbarad explained at her raised eyebrow. "The wilderness…it is a harsh and dangerous place. You may place your healers and brewers to watch over it, but there are more people who need it."

Heather finally understood what Luna meant when she said that there was a reason why the descendants of the Numenoreans, the Dunedain, were loved by the Valar specifically. Before they had fallen, they must have hearts that were great and innately kind.

* * *

The planning went so smoothly that Heather sometimes had to pinch herself several times just to make sure it was real.

Her siblings were people with diverse personalities and different kinds of temper. That usually resulted in an explosion of amazing proportions. When they planned, though it was with a time limit, they usually did it in the Sanctuary, where they could plan at their leisure and had all the resources near. And even if they felt danger and were extremely wary of war, they had a place where they could let their guard down.

The Rangers rarely had comfort. What tempers they had were soldiered and ironed out by the wilderness into discipline and logic. Heather wouldn't call them socially stunted but she would call them socially inept.

And really, she had to pinch herself several times because of that discipline and that logic.

The Rangers had no  _arguments_. There were no shouting matches or anything that raised their voices. It was unnervingly  _weird_.

What they had were logical suggestions and counter suggestions. Since there were fifteen people, not counting Aragorn and Heather, that was a lot of suggestions. Heather admired Aragorn for dealing with all of it without a wince.

"This is surreal," Heather muttered. "But then again, this is  _you._ "

He smirked at her. "Aren't you talking about yourself?" he asked rhetorically.

They eventually settled on twenty-two safehouses that would be strategically placed in the areas that the Dunedain regularly patrolled.

When they offered to help, she shot them down quickly.

"No," she said. "I'm using this as an exercise for my son. That one hasn't had much practice using his gifts yet. But don't worry, this won't take a year."

Heather had initially calculated a year and a half but then she remembered Kreacher and it shortened to eight months.

"If you insist, Gryffon," Halbarad said reluctantly. It was  _obvious_  as anything that he wanted to help.

And Merlin, he flashed her that sad, soulful look that Fenny sometimes adopted when faced with prey that Heather forbade him from eating. Oh, Bugger!

Heather sighed with resignation. "Alright," she muttered. "You can tell me where to buy most of them supplies. And don't bother with stone and wood, I can manage that by myself."

Their  _enthusiastic_ response to that left Heather blinking for several moments before she remembered to grab a quill and parchment to note down everything they said.

When they finally broke camp two days later, with promises to send word through Hafny, Heather felt some measure of peace settle on her spirit. It was a pleasant feeling since she hadn't realized the weight that settled on her the moment she saw that bleak vision.

"Are you alright?" Halbarad asked. He was one of the last to go back to his duties since he had stayed closeted with Aragorn long after the planning.

She flashed him a quick smile. "Yes. I'm better than alright." Then a thought occurred to her and a crease appeared on her forehead. "Actually, Halbarad, I have a favor to ask of you."

He gestured for her to continue, and she did after a moment's hesitation. "May I touch your hand? I wish to see something and I can't wait for it to get urgent before it hits on my subconscious."

All the Rangers were private men and it surprised her that he agreed to have his future viewed easily. The frown he set his face into forbade questions and Heather removed her gloves, looking everywhere but at him.

It was as awkward as anything.

Then she touched his skin and her knees nearly buckled at the onslaught of images that entered her mind.

There were swords and fighting (which really was inevitable in his future since he was, you know, a ranger), banners with silver stars, an army, several houses that seemed to have latched themselves to what looked like the prospective safehouses and then darkness. And in that darkness, a fire sprouted that made Heather struggle and tremble to break the vision.

With an almighty  _wrench_ , she fell on the ground, panting, stopping the vision too late because she had seen the fire turn into a ring that surrounded a lidless eye.

It was the eye from her nightmares. What the  _hell_ was it doing in Halbarad's future?

"Gryffon!" Aragorn cried in alarm, along with several others. Halbarad was in front of her, slapping her pale cheeks lightly with his fingers.

"What did you see?" he asked. Heather found it slightly funny that he seemed more concerned about her health than his own future.

Then Aragorn was beside her, holding a cup of tea that cleared the mind. It was the tea that Draco made especially for her.

"Drink it and then we'll talk about it, hmm?" Aragorn said in a firm yet gentle tone. It was a tone that allowed for no arguments.

She drank it and the effects were instantaneous. The fog of fear and indecision cleared away from her mind. Heather vaguely registered that the cup was trembling. Oh, no. it was her hands that were trembling.

"Sorry," she said as clearly as she could. "But still, I never expected that. I should have though." She really should have. Aragorn was the subject of a prophecy, probably her equivalent for this world, and Halbarad would rather cut off his own arm than leave his captain to deal with that alone. (And really, Heather had a really good guess who owned that eye.)

"What about?" Aragorn asked and Heather had the urge to bless him or something. The man really had the patience of a Saint. If it had been any of her siblings with her, they would have bundled her up in furs and given her Dreamless sleep. Sure, that would help with the current problem but not at all with the future one. Dealing with things as they happened or before they happened was always the better way.

She waved her wandering thoughts away and answered, "You remember, my friend, of that time when I lay in your father's house, too ill to even wake up?"

Despite the situation, a little smirk made its way to Aragorns face. "Yes. And you gave Glorfindel such a hard time. Ada told me that you are even a worse patient than I am and  _that's_  saying something."

They shared a smile. And then Heather continued, "My dreams in Elronds house were not restful. Most of them were prophetic dreams but Enid said that she couldn't write them down because they were in a language no one spoke," she said. She took another breath before plowing on to the main nightmare. "But there was one dream that always made me scream. It was the image of a great lidless eye surrounded by a ring of fire."

You could have heard the scuttle of tiny insects. It was  _that_ quiet.

"It stared at me," Heather said in a rough and broken voice. "And I felt my entire body burn. It felt like it was looking at my soul to devour it. And Aragorn, my friend, I saw that eye again when I touched Halbarad."

To their credit, nobody looked at the aforementioned Ranger. They did, however, huddle closer together and away from the campfire. From the  _fire._

"Did you tell Ada about these dreams?" Aragorn asked. There was a cautious note in his voice that had everybody going still in the clearing.

"No. I thought those were fever dreams. But this time…" she mumbled. Heather remembered Bilbo Baggins and didn't say anything to add him into Aragorn's problems. She'd already made him worry about Halbarad.

It was an unsaid understanding that nobody said a word about the Dark Lord, or even mention him. There were very few things in Arda that spoke of darkness and only one evil in Arda ventured  _near_  devouring souls. That wouldn't mean that they would be ignoring it. It would just mean an extra watchfulness for everybody else.

"I'll take care of it," Aragorn said with firm authority. "Everybody, remember your oath. And…just be extra watchful."

He bundled Heather up in blankets and promised to stay until she could travel by herself. She gave him a faint smile and huddled down, feeling better and lighter, even if she was having a hammering headache. There were truly some things that she could only tell Aragorn and that nightmare was one of them.

As she closed her eyes, she was beyond grateful for whatever gods that led her to such a loyal friend.

* * *

If Heather thought really hard, she could dredge up the memories of how everything really started, of how, in a moment of weakness she allowed herself to just  _think_  of another option. It was when the Tri-wizard Tournament sparked all the most hateful articles and mails a person shouldn't receive, let alone a fourteen year-old girl.

Hermione wasn't there; just Luna and that probably explained how everything started.

"If you can do anything else," Luna had whispered starting the seed that began everything. "What would it be?"

Heather had been pale, with dark rings under her eyes and her hair limp and unwashed. Her soft mouth had been hardened by stress and anger. At the question, her dull eyes sparked back to life.

"I –I do like to help people," she whispered. Her voice had been hoarse then, cracked and broken from weeping the previous night. "But people have  _prejudices and expectations_  – " the word was said with venom" – and refuse help, or think that there are strings attached to the help. People, wizards really, are just too unbelievably  _stupid._ "

Luna hummed and patted her in the arm. "It's the way of the world, feather. And really, unless there's a world where nobody knows everybody else, then people will always have prejudices and expectations."

They had brushed it off then as an amusing thought. "Another world," Heather had muttered. "That would be nice."

Nonsensical, really, but it evidently stayed with Hermione after they told her since she had practically leaped at the Ritual she found in the Black Library.

"It starts with the small ideas," Dumbledore had told her once. "That usually begets the greatest and grandest events, Miss Potter. Small things that snowball into  _avalanches_."

* * *

OMAKE: (deleted scenes?)

**When Faramir met Aedan and Fenny**

Faramir finally realized that his new tutors were rather strict taskmasters so a rare day-off was something that he made the most out of.

So he was seated in one of the benches that surrounded the Dancing Nymph and just  _basked_  in the feeling of doing nothing, not even thinking. And then a cold snout touched his hands and he looked down to find a really big fox looking at him with curiosity. They were eyes that were filled with intelligence.

"By Manwe," he muttered. "It's a fox."

It occurred to him, in the very back of his mind, that this probably was a test of some kind that his tutors concocted. They were very good with psychological warfare. He was still trying to understand which bit of it was the test when something else caught his attention.

It was a baby boy, small pudgy hands closed tightly around the fox's brown fur, looking at him with the same curiosity as the fox's. He was using the animal to stand straight and held absolutely no fear with regards to the hulking menace.

And then the boys green eyes caught the sunlight and Faramir relaxed. Having been taught by two people with the same shade of green, he knew that the boy was related to his Weapons tutors.

"Hello," he said, mustering up a smile in the face of  _really_  sharp fangs.

The boy grinned, showing toothless gums and adorable dimples. "'ello. Dis is Fenny."

A quick recall of rumors made him realize that the fox was named Fenny and the pet of the Lady Eilys. So this must be Aedan, the offspring of Lord Guiomer.

"Ah," he said to the boy. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Fenny. What's your name, child?"

"Aydan," the boy said, confirming his theory.

An idea entered his mind and he grinned. It was a bit mischievous but one really couldn't spend time with his tutors without gaining some mischief.

"Aedan," Faramir said carefully. "Do you know what pranks are?"


	24. The Greatest Love

When Boromir of Gondor arrived in Haven, all of the wizards felt it. There was no subtlety or slyness, only urgency. His every thought was screaming for Faramir and it was in clear concern. There was also the darker undertone of anger, a result of his subconscious promise to hurt anyone hurting his brother. It would have been amusing if it wasn't so sincere.

Luna, who had been doing an inventory in the Hospital supplies because her assistants were having a rare day-off, nearly dropped her parchment in surprise. The quill and bottle of ink following obediently beside her wobbled as her concentration did and it set itself on the nearest shelf to prevent from being broken.

Hermione cringed and wobbled dangerously on top of a ladder she had been climbing and had to cast a Hover charm in order to get down, not trusting her motor skills in the face of the sudden headache that resulted from the wards' whispers. Draco, who had been lecturing Faramir while they played chess, stopped mid-motion, the bishop arrested between his fingers.

"My lord?" Faramir asked uncertainly.

Draco hummed in contemplation and knew that his job would be to keep Faramir occupied. Guiomer would greet him, he knew and the others would probably watch and wait for their signal to help. The initial contact was always the hardest, and the most uncertain. That's why they placed the most charming people to do that bit. Guiomer was perfect in that aspect, seeing as he had inherited very little of his mother's explosive temper and almost all of her charisma. His temper, if you had the misfortune to see it, was slow to rise and harder to appease.

"What did Enid teach you today?" he asked to divert his sudden inattention. It would work because he usually used Hermione's lessons to compliment his own. They even compared notes over dinner sometimes and it was an effective way to get things done quickly.

Faramir straightened up. "She taught me the inaccuracies of history. That most histories are written by the victors and that most truths are lost and hidden by people who wish to keep it hidden."

Draco smiled because that was something he could use.

His musings were true and Boromir was greeted by Guiomer, who had been in the Training courts, letting out stress.

"Hello, can I help you?" Guiomer asked politely. He was wearing what his mother called the ' _very nice but if you displease me, I'll decapitate you_ ' face.

Lord Boromir felt like a male version of Hermione, albeit a more extreme one. That meant he was bossy, domineering and intelligent. Guiomer was proven right when he opened his mouth and said, "I am Boromir of Gondor, son of Denethor of the House of Stewards." There was no  _hesitation_ , or caution in his voice. "My brother Faramir was sent here as punishment. I wish to see him."

Guiomer had to blink at the  _determination_ in Boromirs before he recovered his smile and said, "He is still having his lessons. You can keep me company while we wait." At Boromirs expression, Guiomer added, "I'm Guiomer, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you," Boromir answered as an automatic reaction rather than politeness.

"Likewise," Guiomer said, struggling to keep amusement out of his voice. Lord Boromir moved like a man that was still trying to cope with the surprises thrown his way. Guiomer remembered Hermione acting the same way when she found herself mistaken once and he struggled to keep a straight face.

Really, odd thoughts plagued him at the worst moments and made things difficult for him. Guiomer blamed his mother. At least she had her position and her experience to excuse her. People who would hesitate to hex or punch – truly, the idea was there – his mother wouldn't think twice about hitting him for suddenly laughing at them.

And then he realized why Boromir was surprised and he sobered up. Lord Denethor really was an ass if he told Boromir  _why_  he sent Faramir to Haven. Boromir must have expected them to stop him from seeing his own brother.

It hurt a little, even if it made sense.

"So," Boromirs tentative voice broke into his musings. "My brother is not here as punishment?" he asked.

And Boromir just proved his theory by asking that question. As his mother would say,  _bleeding depressing_.

Guiomer flashed him a quick smile. "Oh, no. He was sent here to be punished but my mother didn't like the idea. So he's being taught what he likes best."

Boromir was too well bred to openly gape but his mouth did drop open for a second before he regained control of himself. And then the most heartbreaking smile of relief crossed his face and Guiomer just  _knew_ that Lord Boromir loved his brother very much.

"Thank you," he whispered. It was heartfelt gratitude in his voice. "Then he is happy. That is all I came to see."

Guiomer felt the warmth of contentment settle in his chest. He knew that it was what his mother called  _Fuzzy Feelings_. It was also what made the hardships of ruling Haven worth it.

He led Boromir to Cailyn's bakeshop, where his wife was serving and bustling around tables and laughing happily. At the sight of both of them, she stopped and gave a small curtsy. That prompted several patrons to raise their cups to toast him and some of the younger children stood from their chairs and bowed.

"Welcome to the Pastry shop," Cailyn said when all the bowing was done. "A late luncheon or a light snack?"

A quick eye over Boromir's travel-stained figure prompted Guiomer into saying, "A late luncheon will do, my sparrow. And some of your special cakes."

Guiomer led them to a secluded corner, just in time for Boromir to say, "So I take it your mother is Lady Gryffon?" This was said in the driest tone possible. Thankfully, he didn't look annoyed, just amused at the information.

Guiomer laughed. "Yeah. I guess the bowing gave it away? Mater tried to break them out of it but you can see the futility of it. By the Valar, even my own wife curtsies to me in public," he said.

"Wife?" Boromir asked.

A hot plate was set in front of him, prompting him to look upward and see the beautiful red-head that carried a tray with ease.

"That would be me," she said, making Boromir's eyes widen. "And I have to lead the bowing or else everyone wouldn't notice they were there at all. The five of them are so good with being unnoticed."

Guiomer laughed again. "Whatever you say, sparrow. It's not like you  _adore_  it when it happens to  _you_."

Cailyn flushed and moved away, leaving both men to their meal. Boromir, after a moment's hesitation, tentatively tasted the food and then dug in ravenously when he his stomach reacted to the taste. Guiomer nursed a cup of pumpkin juice and allowed his thoughts to wander.

Foremost in his mind was his mother, who had sent him a reassuring letter the day before. But no matter what, he would always worry about her. It never helped either that she never told him everything that happened when she left the safety of the city. It was almost like she tried to shield him from everything else. Well, he wished she wouldn't, even if that was a lost cause. Draco had once told him that his mother hid the most ridiculous things from people, because she didn't want to be a burden.

"Stupid," Draco had drawled out. "And I blame her relatives for making her that way."

Still, Guiomer really would rather know the truth. His imagination was sometimes worse than the truth.

A hand on his shoulder stopped his wandering thoughts, and he glanced up to see who it was and grinned.

"Aunt Enid! This is a surprise. You don't usually indulge in sweets," Guiomer greeted.

Hermine smiled at him. "No, my dear. But I was looking for you. The children told me you were here. Who's you're guest?"

Both of them knew that she knew who he was with and they were just playing for the sake it. It wouldn't do to have to explain the wards to an almost-stranger. Merlin, acting normal was  _boring._

"Boromir of Gondor. He's Faramir's brother," Guiomer answered. He avoided looking into his aunts eyes in case he broke down giggling. He always was tickled every time they did some acting.

Hermione ignored him, used to his quirks and allowed Boromir to kiss her fingertips in greeting. "Ah," she said. "My name is Enid. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Boromir. Your brother speaks about you often enough that I was very curious to meet you."

Lord Boromir blushed. "Ah, I hope you don't believe everything he says?"

Hermione laughed. "If he has exaggerated, you will have to tell me. That one does have a good imagination. It's a good thing he is such a brilliant student," she said.

Boromir  _beamed_. "Truly? That is a good thing to hear. I did worry, because when I last saw my brother, he was with my father and they couldn't stand to be in the same room with each other."

Guiomer and Hermione nodded at the same time, pleased to finally understand why Boromir had practically  _reeked_  of worry for Faramir when he first came. It did sadden Guiomer that another one of his theories were true. Bugger. Lord Denethor really was a bastard.

"What has he been learning?" Boromir continued to ask.

Boromir has the good fortune of picking a topic that would make Hermione really talk. Faramir was, after all, her favorite topic. If Guiomer wasn't properly grounded in those sorts of things, he would have gotten jealous. As it was, he had to hold back his snort at seeing his aunt find the perfect listener. Most people would have their eyes glazed over in boredom at the topic but not Boromir. He found it interesting.

Then the hourly bell rang, startling Boromir and making Hermione bite back an expletive.

"Puppies and magic," she muttered. "Guiomer, I left something at my office that's time sensitive. Lord Boromir, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," he answered. "Gods blessing on your teachings."

Boromirs eyes tacked Hermione as she left at a brisk trot. Guiomers mischief was tamped down when he remembered the regal-looking elf that danced with his aunt at his wedding. Normally, he wouldn't have noticed since it was  _his wedding_ but it was rare enough to see his aunt dancing that it really caught his attention.

And really, Guiomer didn't like to think what would happen if Elladan challenged Boromir to a duel. Elladan, being an elf, would probably win by default because of his experience. Several decades of training was only a drop compared to a thousand years of fighting and hunting orcs.

"She's with someone already," Guiomer said, wanting to sigh with resignation. "That's elvish territory, mate."

Lord Boromir really did sigh. "I guessed as much. She is too beautiful. And she is such a jewel to have no one treasure her."

That was his aunt so  _No!_ Guiomer had to work to keep the revulsion off his face. Gods, he hated his mind sometimes. Again, he blamed his mother.

Lightning quick, he changed topics.

The only one to catch to the quick change was Cailyn, who was eavesdropping from serving several tables and she laughed quietly.

* * *

Draco did dismiss Faramir early and a quick word to a child outside the Research Department had the brothers in a quick reunion without making it seem like there were any outside influences involved. Lord Boromir was blissfully unaware while Faramir, a longer resident of Haven, suspiciously looked around and then rolled his eyes heaven-ward when he saw a dozen curious eyes of orphans watching.

Guiomer stayed only long enough to see them exchange exclamations of surprise and headed to find Draco. He was found in his office, muttering over his notes.

"What?" he asked.

Guiomer raised an eyebrow at the grouchy tone. "You released your student early and you're in a bad mood already? Really, what has you in a tizzy, Uncle Hodur?"

Draco scowled darkly. "None of your business," he said.

There was a rustling of paper and a small dark cake was placed in front of him. Draco felt himself thawing at the gesture since it was his favorite.

"Alright," Draco said. "Persistent little thing, aren't you?" He ran a hand through his hair, nearly dislodging the leather that tied it in a ponytail. "Maethor came earlier with a note for me. Aragorn was asking for Dreamless sleep. It's a batch that will probably last for two days if taken at the right dose."

It didn't take Arithmancy, or a lot of effort to understand why Draco was grouchy. He was usually grouchy when he was worried and especially if he was worried about Heather. Everybody knew that Aragorn was with Heather and that Dreamless sleep meant trouble.

Guiomer swallowed. "Did Aragorn say when she's coming home? It's almost been a month." He asked tentatively. He was almost afraid of the answer.

Draco didn't disappoint. He answer was practical and he was as blunt as Luna when he didn't bother with tact, which was most of the time.

"It's not actually her fault this time, surprisingly," he added under his breath. Then he continued with, "She's recovering from whatever she saw in her vision."

An idea struck Guiomer and he blurted it out without thinking. "Do you think they forced her to see their future?" he asked. His mouth snapped shut quickly with embarrassment.

Draco only shot him a look of disgust, which worked better than any lecture he could have said. "No, use your head! And anyway, does Potter look like the type to be forced to do anything? When she was thirteen, yes. Now that she's in her forties, she's more stubborn than a mountain."

The words prompted an image of his mother glaring down a mountain in a staring contest. Guiomer coughed and tucked that away to share with Cailyn later. She always enjoyed a good laugh.

A knock at Draco's door caught their attention. A quick glance at each other communicated that neither expected anybody.

"Enter," Draco drawled.

An orphans head popped in tentatively. When he saw Guiomer, he smiled toothily. "Lord Guiomer sir! Lady Cailyn is inviting them guests to eat in  _the Falcon_. Lady Enid said something about a welcoming dinner," he said quickly.

Draco corrected the boys' grammar as he cleaned up his papers. Guiomer rolled his eyes and tossed the boy a coin. "Message received. A coin for your trouble, lad," he said.

The boy cheered and bowed at the same time, making for a ridiculous image. Guiomer cocked his head to the side curiously like a bird.

"Was I ever that exuberant?" he asked rhetorically as soon as the boy was out of earshot.

Draco shot him a look that usually heralded an embarrassingly truthful statement. "No. You were a broody and awkward boy. I can't count the number of times you said something that cracked your mothers' ribs in holding back her laughter. Socially stunted, you were," he said bluntly.

Right. That was true, even if he could have said it in a kinder way.

Guiomer groaned as the flush of embarrassment went up his cheeks. He had to remind himself that he brought it upon himself and that he loved his uncle like you would love a pet porcupine. A really barbed and stingy one but a porcupine nonetheless.

"If you ever become nicer," Guiomer commented dryly. "I'll send you to Aunt Eilys to see if you've been struck by a fever, or possessed by someone's ghost."

Draco didn't dignify that with an answer. It was true, either way.

* * *

Faramir had been happy in his stay in Haven but with the arrival of his brother, he felt like he'd just touched the highest measurement in the happy-meter. If he'd asked Lady Enid, he would have found a proper word for it but she was busy discussing something with his other teacher, a furrow in her brow.

Lady Eilys was there, her kind eyes gleaming with contentment as she listened to Aedan chattering at her from his mother's lap. Lady Cailyn had a smile on her face as she made fun of her son and her husband. Lord Guiomer was laughing and pouting alternately, his entire presence brightening the atmosphere, just like his mother.

Lady Gryffon was the only one not in the little celebration. A small frown entered his face when he realized that he had not seen her since Lord Guiomer took over the morning lessons. That was three weeks ago.

It probably wasn't any of his business but the Lady of Haven wasn't the type  _not_ to be seen in Haven. And that only meant that she wasn't in the city.

"You are very quiet," Boromir murmured beside him, breaking away from the quiet conversation he was having with Lady Eilys and Aedan.

Faramir shot him a small smile, only a small image to show for the peace and contentment in him. "I'm fine. I'm just thinking."

Boromir rolled his eyes. "Riiight. What are you thinking about? Dare I ask or is it too shady and mysterious?"

That startled Faramir out of thinking about the absentee Lady of Haven. He blinked at his brother. "What?" he asked. It wasn't a squawk.

"Ever since I've arrived, nobody's been telling me what you've been  _really_ learning," Boromir explained patiently. "All of them do a splendind job of misdirecting my questions but you  _are_ my  _brother_. I can't get distracted that easily, especially not when it comes to you."

Faramir realized what that meant only because he had spent quite a while with Lady Enid and Lord Guiomer, the both of whom were mostly responsible for talking to Boromir before the dinner. Lord Hodur merely nodded at Boromir, not saying anything.

"They want me to be the one to tell you," he said after he applied his mind to that. "It is not a mystery, just politeness. They're particular about freedom here in Haven."

Boromir gave him a look. "Explain that and then tell me about what you've been learning," he said. "And stop trying to derail me with interesting things."

Faramir laughed. "I didn't mean to derail the conversation! Alright, so in one of my first lessons, I was told to read the Charter of Haven. They focus mainly on freedom and the absence of prejudice. I call it reasonable freedom because of how the Charter is stated."

His brother made an impatient gesture when he paused to take a breath, making him hold back a smirk. "If there's something that you need to know, but it's actually somebody else's secret, then someone will often have to hint at it and lead you to ask it from the source," Boromir looked bewildered so Faramir expounded with, "It's actually like this. If they'd told you what I was learning and I wouldn't have wanted you to learn it, then it would have infringed on my rights as a temporary resident of Haven."

Boromir snorted. "That's just a load of headaches, though it is useful. How they gossip, I wonder," he said.

Faramir laughed again. "Oh, you  _would_  believe that! There's actually a loophole in the law that says as long as it is shown in public, then you are ready for everyone to know. Since my lessons are always in private and alone, then it is kept secret."

Boromir groaned feeling tired just thinking about it.

* * *

OMAKE: (Should I really call it Deleted Scenes?)

**A day off with Faramir and Aedan…**

"Okay, hold it carefully," he whispered to the little boy.

Aedan nodded, cherubic face narrowed in concentration as he held up the small package. It was a combination of mud, chocolate and some berries that held its red color really well. Wrapped in an expertly tied together bundle of leaves, it was bound with the intention of loosening at a certain velocity. Lady Enid did leave behind a textbook with the subject matter of projectiles. Really, it was her fault.

"Ready?" he asked Aedan.

The little angel giggled and nodded. At the same moment, the door opened and someone stepped out. On cue, Aedan dropped the bundle and both of them leaned over carefully to watch how it would go. And it went  _splat!_  The result was spectacular, in his opinion.

"Awesome!" Faramir whispered. Aedan was red with giggling beside him, barely able to stand.

"Both of you get down here!" called out a voice that was really familiar to the both of them.

As one, Faramir and Aedan exchanged looks of horror, with Aedan snickering a bit. They had just  _pranked_  Lord Hodur! Unfortunately for Faramir, Fenny arrived and bit Aedan's shirt, racing off with the boy giggling again. Faramir sighed and trudged miserably down the building to meet his doom.


	25. Enchantments

Guiomer woke up with the innate feeling that something was very  _wrong._ It wasn't the tingling dread that went over him when his mother was bitten by a wolf in defense of his aunt. Neither was it the deep-rooted feeling of fear when his mother vanished while Rohan.

It was something else, something new and something probably worse. He also had the responsibility to find out what it was.

A quick glance at the window showed darkness, with only hints of moonlight. Cailyn's deep and rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room, calming down his slight panic.

A deep breath and then he casted a Patronus that took the shape of a stag to keep his wife company while he was away. Then he strode into his sons nursery and found Aedan wide awake, breathing harsh and panicked.

"Shh!" he whispered to the child. Aedan snuggled into his warmth, heartbeat trying to match his. Guiomer kissed him on the forehead and strode back into the bedroom, placing the baby with his sleeping wife. Aedan's green eyes, the exact same shade as his own, were wide with apprehension. It made him feel a bit helpless because that was something his son shouldn't feel while he was still alive. At least, not at that age.

"Watch over them, avus," he whispered to the stag.

He silently apparated to his family's home, and froze upon finding himself to be the receiving end of three wands.

"Whoa!" he cried out. "The peace of the Valar!"

His aunts and uncles all dropped their wands with various sighs and groans.

"Guiomer, sweetheart," Hermione sighed. "So you feel it too?"

Guiomer nodded. "Yes. Even Aedan isn't sleeping."

They all exchanged glances of alarm. Draco grumbled something about a 'Potter Curse'.

"It hasn't touched the wards yet," Luna murmured. "Circling and watching. It's malice is so great that we feel it even here."

"Well, we bloody well can't allow it to keep circling!" Hermione exclaimed, startling all of them. Hermione really didn't allow herself to curse often. It was practically an unsaid rule.

A muscle was jumping in Draco's jaw. "We don't even know what we're dealing with. if we overreach ourselves, then it won't end well. And if we cast spells at it, then  _they_  will know we can do magic," he growled out.

Guiomer chewed that for a moment and then he understood what his uncle meant. If they used magic, their advantage would be lost. But... "You can't leave whatever it is out there," he said reasonably. "It isn't healthy. They probably can't feel it now, but it eventually will hurt the people."

They went quiet and Guiomer could practically feel their minds working furiously fast. He thought of Aedan, trembling in his arms and his hands clenched convulsively. His hands were wrapped around the hilt of the sword of Gryffindor and his mind  _cleared._

He could remember, as clear as if it were an hour ago, his mother setting him down in his room and telling him the secrets of the gaudy weapon.

"It's not just a sword," she had told him solemnly. "It's your only friend in the battlefield. If you need speed, it gives you speed. If you lack strength, it becomes sharper. So long as you place your faith in it, this weapon will never break and never falter."

His heart had thudded erratically and he understood what she meant when he touched the rubies and felt the calm and serenity that washed over him, the certainty that he could do  _anything_  as long as the sword was with him.

That certainty hit him again and he started stripping his dragonhide gloves. The act caught their attention and Hermione's eyes widened.

"Guiomer, love, are you sure?" she asked.

He shot her a look. "Mater isn't here and we need to know what were dealing with. Just a request? Don't think of anything. It'll muddle up what I see and I'm not yet as good as Mater in sorting things out," he said.

He closed his eyes and remembered Aedan, eyes large in his face, a gentle "Pater" coming from his mouth in a high, lilting voice. He remembered Cailyn, her face gentle and relaxed in sleep and eyes smoky and coy with laughter. His resolve strengthened and he opened his gift to the possibilities.

Guiomer's gift wasn't as strong as his mothers, but it was strong enough. The weakness of it made it easier to manage because he could control  _when_  he would use it, unlike his mother. Like his mother, however, he had no control over  _what_  he saw. The elves' help only went as far as self-control was needed. In the other aspects, they were as helpless as anybody. Lord Elronds gift didn't even touch on how powerful theirs were.

As the images flooded his mind, he had to hold back a groan of pain. The images were disjointed and broken. It was fast and difficult as anything to read. And then it settled into what he wanted and he released a sigh.

"It's alone," he said, voice rough with pain. "It's just looking for something to feed on. If we attack it – " he winced at the brutality of the images – "It can't be with magic. It must be with weapons."

"It absorbs them?" Hermione asked.

Luna handed Guiomer a wet towel to press to his heated forehead. The coolness eased the pounding headache he had in his brain for a moment. The relief went away when he used his gift to answer his question.

"It absorbs emotions," he said flatly. "It incites despair and weakness of the soul. Spells are extensions of the wizard.  _Of course_ it will have a bit of our emotions."

That removed the thought of using patroni. The three of them devolved into a very fast whispered argument while Guiomer tried not to move his head too much. It felt like he head a concussion and a hangover at the same time. He wondered how his mother did it so frequently and so easily.

Guiomer eventually abandoned the wet towel to stare at the three of them and felt a bit off-balance. That was the effect of the missing piece. Each of them were capable and intimidating individuals in their own right but together, they were great. With Heather lacking, they still functioned well but not as well as could be.

"An enchanted thing!" Hermione's voice rose among all of the others. It triggered another vision and Guiomer suppressed a groan of pain as his migraine redoubled with another onslaught of visions.

"It'll work," he piped up, moderating his voice above a whisper even if it made him want to keel over. "Best to do it quick, that creature is getting restless. I don't want to get  _another_  vision of what will happen when it touches the wards."

That spurred them into action.

* * *

The four of them apparated to different points of the city.

For Draco, he arrived at the Statue of the Dancing Nymph that was modelled after his own mother. Quickly, he raised his wand (and didn't it feel brilliant to hold a wand again, no matter how proficient he got at using wandless magic) and did the incantation that Hermione had slapped into his open palm.

A quick incantation, a neat twitch of his wand and the Nymph lowered her foot that had been raised mid-movement. The stone did not grate, or break. It looked like she was a stone statue brought to life – except that she had no emotions or soul, which was why she would be perfect to fight a soul-sucking creature.

The enchantment worked perfectly for something that was the result of thirty minutes of Arithmetic calculation and Runic configuration.

The nymph was still there, standing and looking at him patiently. Waiting for orders. Well, he would oblige her.

"There is a creature outside the city that seeks to harm the people. Your order – your mandate is to protect the citizens and the people of this city for as long as this enchantment stands," Draco said. His voice was steady and strong.

The statue moved to leap away when a thought occurred to him. He stopped her movements with a hand and then created a staff with flowers on it. It was a temporary weapon that would disintegrate afterwards until he could find an appropriate weapon for the nymph.

She gave an experimental twirl of the staff and then leapt away, leaving no mark on the cobblestones despite how heavy she must have been. Truly a work of art, though he wouldn't tell Granger that because she would get so unbearably smug about it for  _months._

For Luna, she came to the statue of Fenny and gave an experimental twirl with the wand she had not held since the construction of the city. In response, the statue reacted like it was waiting for it. And then it peered down at her curiously, much like how the real Fenny would when Luna went to take him for a walk.

"Hello, Fenny," Luna whispered with fondness. In the darkness of the square, her whisper was loud and commanding. It made the statue cock its head adorably to the side. "Your orders are to protect the people and this city to the best of your ability. You will always stand guard and you will always watch."

Fenny the statue bowed one more time and then raced away, mouth open and filled with sharp fangs.

Hermione's statue was the Rearing horse, her symbol for freedom of oppression and nobility of spirit. With an expert flick, the enchantment settled and the horse settled own, blinking stony eyes at her and flicking its ears and tail. If it was capable of making a sound, it would have nickered at her.

"Your directive," Hermione ordered. "Is to trample to dust those that threaten the peace of this city. You will protect it for the rest of eternity."

The horse reared one more time and then it took off to the direction of the malice. Hermione sighed at its speed and perfection, and then smacked herself for being a sentimental idiot.

Guiomer's statue was the farthest from their modest home. It was the statue of the Mighty wizard, large knotted staff held by young hands that were raised to cast a spell. His clothes were foreign and flowing, hat tilted to obscure his young face.

Guiomer knew that it was modelled after a man his mother respected very much and a good friend of his uncle. His name was Blaise Zabini and he had been one of the first casualties of the war. In his childish fantasies, he'd imagine this man as his father because he hadn't understood the difference between admiration and love.

The holly wand that had belonged to his mother was warm in his hands as he casted the enchantment.

And then he blinked in surprise.

He knew that the spell was supposed to bring to life the statues but he hadn't expected the wizard to yawn widely and then use the impressive staff as a back scratcher. It was so lifelike that it was unnerving.

Guiomer cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" he said with a bit of incredulity.

The statue stopped stretching and easing non-existent back pains and turned to look at Guiomer as though he had just noticed him. For a moment, the statue looked embarrassed and then he stood at attention, looking like a soldier and nothing at all like a statue that just woke up.

"There's an enemy waiting outside," he ordered softly. "Its continued existence is harmful to the citizens, so please deal with it. The very reason for your creation was guidance to the people. I will now add another order: You will always protect this city."

The wizard swept off its pointed hat from its head and raised it slightly. It showed the statues' exotically shaped eyes that blinked its understanding. And then it strode off purposefully, its strides long and quick.

* * *

They all met up at the highest point in the walls, wearing one of the glasses that Hermione had invented to increase eyesight and enabled seeing in the dark.

The creature did look eerily like a dementor, but it didn't move in that slow, gliding steps that the dementors were fabled for. It moved quickly when the nymph brought down its flowery staff and parried the expert movements of the wizard. The hooves of the horse caused a spark in the grass and the creature recoiled.

Hermione was quick to catch that, her eyes sharp and bright.

"Fire!" she breathed. "Of course! Fire purifies everything it touches. Something that angry will fear purity."

Draco looked impressed. "Damn!" he muttered. "Makes me wish I pestered my father to buy me a phoenix instead of those Abraxan horses when I was younger."

He gave a yelp when Luna hit him on the head.

Hermione ignored both of them and turned to Guiomer. "How good are you with arrows?" she asked.

Guiomer, whose headache had receded when he put on his dragonhide gloves, nearly chuckled. "Average, but I can hit what I want eight times out of ten," he said.

She nodded and conjured him a bow and several arrows. The tips were special and wrapped in several flammable ingredients. "Aim for the creature, I'll do the rest," she said.

Briefly, Guiomer allowed himself to feel overwhelmingly grateful that his mother wasn't in Haven because she really was terrible with bow and arrows. There was even a rumour that the elves themselves gave up on teaching her how to aim.

Then he took a breath and  _stretched_. The arrow released into the air and Hermione set fire to it mid-arc. He took a moment to marvel at her spell accuracy and then he released the breath he had been holding when it hit the creature, who let out a high shriek.

The four of them didn't cheer when the creature finally fled, but they gave sighs of heartfelt relief.

"If I don't see that thing in this lifetime," Luna murmured as they tracked the progress of the statues as they returned to their pedestals. "It would be too soon."

Surprisingly, Draco snickered. "Which lifetime? You won't exactly get old."

Both of them started arguing and Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really are twins," she said. "Lucky we told Faramir to spend time with his brother for a week because I don't think I can do much teaching."

Nobody heard because Guiomer had already apparated back to his house and Luna and Draco were  _still_  arguing.

"Heather," Hermione sighed, feeling completely lonely all of a sudden. "Come home soon."

* * *

The effects of the malice showed when the people moved in a sluggish, sleepy manner. They recovered by noon but it still worried Hermione so much that she didn't even open the letter that came from Elladan, delivered by a very cranky Maethor. She shared her theories to those who attended their luncheon, who usually only involved the twins since Meiran and Felicia preferred to eat in their respective departments to save time.

To their utter surprise, Phobos brought up the matter first before anybody could say anything.

"What in Varda's name is going on?" he demanded. "I've had people coming in the hospital in  _droves_ , asking for check-ups because they're suddenly so tired. I know you've had something to do with that because you lot look an inch from sleeping on your chairs."

That passionate speech was something no one would have expected from Phobos nearly a year ago. But the Terrible Two had improved and strived to change themselves ever since Heather had returned with a wolf chewing her shoulder and Luna half-catatonic. Most citizens that were admitted into the hospital actually sought to talk to them at least once before being discharged instead of leaving before being examined by either of them. It was a brilliant and amazing change.

What made them all so  _proud_ , however, was the concern and protectiveness they could hear in his voice. It was a far cry from his old, emotionless apathy.

Hermione beamed at him. "Phobos, really! That's actually a bit of good news. It's good that the people are conscious of their health, enough that they voluntarily go to the hospital."

Deimos scowl could put Draco's to shame. "Don't do another one of your misdirecting things. If it's one of those secret things you have,  _say so,_ " he said.

Luna gave a tinkling laugh. "He's got you caught, 'Mione!" she said. "And you  _can_  tell them. They have a right to know."

Looking rather aggrieved (though everyone knew she was just annoyed that everybody really knew how to deal with her misdirection's), Hermione told them the events form last night in a clinical and detached manner. Guiomer kept chiming in so as to dumb down the technical aspect of it.

"So basically," Deimos interrupted rudely. He may have been improving himself from being a surly bastard, but Deimos still held the title of a first class bastard to his  _friends._  He was actually  _nice_  to the citizens and people he didn't know. "Basically, the city was under attack last night and no one noticed except you sensitive sort. And now, everyone is depressed and lazy from it."

They all gave various methods of assent and agreement.

The twins sighed in unison. "Brilliant really, the lot of you," Phobos said. "But slower than ants sometimes," Deimos continued.

"Why?" Cailyn had to ask because Guiomer was too busy smothering his laughter at the affront on Hermione's face and the twin looks of confusion on Luna's and Draco's faces.

"Plan a party," Phobos said, looking very put-upon. "To raise their spirits. I sure as hell do not wish to write to Lady Gryffon the rising statistics rate for suicide."

"We just  _recently_  managed to turn it to zero, after all," Deimos added helpfully.

It was actually a very good idea and the rest of the luncheon was spent planning it. Draco was actually impatient enough to send for several orphans, making Hermione very annoyed.

"What?" Draco asked defensively when Hermione shot him a harassed and irritated look. "This way, it'll go faster."

Parchment and ink were soon going everywhere and the orphaned children were kept busy running errands. Cailyn and Luna were watching this with wide eyes, having been pushed to the side when everybody started planning.

"This is going to be the best party in Arda," Luna commented. "Or the greatest disaster. It's Draco's impatience against how anal Hermione can get."

Cailyn agreed wholeheartedly as she watched Hermione's hair get curlier and curlier with her frustration and haste.

* * *

The party was a success. Really, Cailyn had to wonder how much of it was a miracle and which of it was good luck. The rest of it, she knew, was really plain coincidence.

What made it even better was that midway through the dancing, Lady Gryffon showed up. She was a little too pale and a little too thin but she took one look at the events and  _laughed_. And suddenly, Haven felt better and brighter.

Nobody could explain, however, how the party came to be named the Festival of Innocence and Purity and how it became a National holiday.

* * *

DELETED SCENES: (Finally settled with that)

**A moment with Prince Theodred**

Theodred watched the maps laid in front of him and scowled. The Dunlendings that were assigned to follow him watched with caution as his irritation became real temper.

"These attacks have a pattern," he muttered. "And that's not good."

The Dunlendings were good with tactics but were terrible with strategy. As one, they gave him looks of confusion.

"It means that someone is testing the defences of Rohan. Someone is leading these orcs," he explained.

The enlightenment on their faces provided brief amusement, before he started going over his options. If it came to the worst of it, then he will have to ask for assistance from Lady Gryffon. For now, he will warn Haven regarding the person controlling the orcs.


	26. Warnings

Faramir expected things to return to its old schedule when his older brother finally left for Gondor, no doubt returning to the wrath of their father and the disapproval of their commander. So he was completely shocked when he arrived in the Training courts and found Lady Gryffon waiting for him instead. Thankfully, she was not bearing the sword of Gryffindor, because that really made her difficult to disarm.

"My lady?" he asked instead of greeting her good morn. He was that startled.

She gave him an impish grin that rang alarm bells in his mind. He had the sudden feeling that he should have pretended to be sick when he woke up.

"My son," she started. "Is busy completing a project of mine with Enid. He'll be gone for nearly a year. What we'll be doing is to work with Hodur until Enid frees her schedule enough to teach you again."

He didn't know why the ominous feeling grew until she told him to discard his weapons because they would be having strategy lessons with Lord Hodur  _immediately._ And then he understood because three weeks of training with Lord Guiomer told him the character of all the other Lords and Ladies through Lord Guiomers cheerful chatter and he  _knew_  that Lord Hodur was the mellowest during evenings. Everybody, even his siblings, avoided him in the morning.

"Oh, don't be so horrified," Gryffon said cheerfully. "He doesn't bite. We broke him out of that years ago. And Enid may be the smartest among all of us but Hodur is still very good with strategy." When he continued to look like he was walking to his grave, she added, "And Meiran will be there to serve as the lightning rod."

Faramir brightened and Lady Gryffon rolled her eyes accordingly.

Meiran and Faramir often crossed paths because of her position and because of all his tutors, Faramir spent most of his time with Hodur. In that point, he was also rather aware of the Potion Masters foul temper. Meiran usually went in and out of Hodurs office and was often on the receiving end of his ire. She had earned Faramirs eternal admiration for snarling back and then calming him down at the same time.

When they arrived in the Research Facility, Hodur's office was in a state of organized chaos, with several books that Faramir knew was from Lady Enids office piled precariously on the floor. Several maps were spread and Meiran was adjusting one of the odd crystals that Lord Hodur sometimes used when he really needed to work all the way until midnight.

"Good morning!" Lady Gryffon said merrily.

Faramir wondered if she really was fearless, even as Meiran's quiet "good morning, my lady," was covered by Lord Hodurs snarl of, "There's no bloody good in this morning since you insisted on working on this freaking hour."

Gryffon just beamed at him while saying indulgently, "Don't be so bad, Hodur. It is freaking early, yes, but it is freaking important too."

Several things finally clicked in Faramir's brain and he realized that Lady Gryffon wasn't fearless so much as insane. One did not make fun of an ill-tempered Lord Hodur. Unfortunately, it must have been something of an ordinary occurrence because Meiran was snickering beside him, muffling the sound with her hand.

"What is going on?" Faramir finally asked, firmly deciding to ignore both of the crazy people in the office. He wondered how that came about since has pretty sure Lord Hodur was the sane one among the Leaders of Haven.

"A letter came last night," Meiran answered seriously, though there was a suspicious quirk in her lips. "From Rohan. It was personal correspondence from Prince Theodred and it mentioned something alarming."

"Alarming?" he asked.

Lady Gryffon broke off the argument to turn serious. "Yes," she said. "Because Prince Theodred spent years in Haven, learning the sword and becoming one of the best students that ever passed here. If something worried him, then here is a reason for it."

Lord Hodur snorted rudely. "Of course there's a reason for it. And he has a right to be worried too. Orcs are being  _organized,_ " he said the word like a curse. "Marauding stupid orcs are bad enough. Marauding smart orcs are worse. This'll hit everybody in the south and stretch everywhere."

Faramir's eyes were wide. "What does that mean for my country?" he asked.

They gave him unreadable looks, but Meiran wasn't quite so controlled and he saw sympathy in her eyes.

"Gondor is only two weeks ride from Rohan," Hodur said finally, breaking the awkward tension. "A week if you push it really hard. This will affect your country most."

Faramir wasn't aware that his body was trembling as his mind raced to find a way to warn his country. He ruled Boromir out even as he thought of him, because he'd be too far away to help rally the troops. His father was out of the question. That left one sergeant general that swore fealty to him when he turned twenty-one. It would be difficult to send him a message but he knew he could ask for Lady Gryffon's help in that endeavor. Nothing had indicated to him that she would refuse him.

A hand at his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

"Calm down," Meiran said.

"I'm calm," he answered her seriously. All their faces held disbelief, so he elaborated, "I'm just thinking of what to send the sergeant general as a warning."

Lady Gryffon smiled slowly, like a fierce, contented cat, and said, "That's good and I'll go over with you on what you've got later. But now, we need to figure out where the orcs are gathering from and how they are organized. Rohan is the one being attacked first so that means they are our first defense. Once we send that to Theodred, he can prepare for it and possibly not be overwhelmed in another year or so."

It was really simple to say and a difficult thing to apply. Faramir had to firmly put thoughts of Gondor in another side of his mind and then stamp on it firmly. The patriotic part of his consciousness cried out at this but he soothed it with thoughts that it was only for a while. While Haven was beautiful, Gondor was  _home_.

However, when it was two bells away before luncheon (and food still kept appearing out of nowhere when Lady Gryffon mentioned she was hungry), all they managed to find out was the attack pattern and the average number of orcs sent every time. Meiran, the extremely literal woman, actually managed to figure out the days they would attack, right down to the very hour, place and weather pattern.

Lady Gryffon called her anal retentive and weird. Meiran just smiled and said, "Thank you."

Lord Hodur snorted and said, "We'll have to take a break and go back to it. We're going around in circles. And I have a bleeding headache."

Lady Gryffon gave a tired smile. "Good work, everyone. This'll help Theodred, but I'll have to remind him not to  _not_  expect a change of pace. Stuff like that is one way to get you killed," she said. Then she saw Faramir and exclaimed, "Faramir, you'll have to work with my men. After luncheon, your time is your own."

After which, she grabbed his hand to listen to his ideas about how to warn Gondor.

* * *

As Hafny flew towards Rohan, Heather sent the orphans to gather the committee and to also fetch Felicia.

Nobody really realized it but Felicia was such an integral part of Haven that it would probably collapse if she went on vacation.

Before the industrial boom and everything went insanely busy, Felicia handled the educational aspect of Haven  _only_. When Hermione went into the Research Department, she gave to Felicia the Commerce and Trade aspect – and that made her even busier than anybody Heather knew. It didn't help that Meiran, who was in charge of the guilds and admission of new citizens, made everything pass through Felicia  _first._

But instead of complaining, Felicia took control of everything with amazing efficiency and it  _worked_. Soon enough, the only thing Heather had to was read through Felicia's summarized reports for each district and committee and then give comments and approvals. While this made Heather feel like a giant, walking rubber stamp, it gave her time to walk through each district at least once a week to see each person and new citizen personally.

"You called, my lady?"Felicia asked with a worried expression.

And it just made Heather so bleeding  _guilty_ that Felicia was such a genuinely nice person and just didn't complain. At all.

Heather mustered a weak smile. "There's a problem but it isn't involving Haven directly," she told the gathered committee. "But it will eventually involve us."

They arranged themselves around the table as Heather told them Theodred's message. All of them caught it quickly, either through experience or education. They were the committee heads for a reason and nobody wanted to deal with slow people when it came to reports.

"Why don't we send for our men?" one of them asked. "And then send them to Rohan?"

Another one cut in before Heather could say anything. "Don't be stupid. It was personal correspondence from Prince Theodred. Nobody else probably knows about it. If we do that, we'll be hailed as an invading army," he said.

"Takes away the element of surprise too," someone else muttered loudly.

There was a susurrus and Heather was really so damn proud of them. Hermione had muttered about war strategies and leaving the people defenseless. They all ended up incorporating it in their educational system so that even a civilian was taught about tactics and strategy and knew to use it to lethal advantage.

One of the most amusing games that people played in Haven was outthinking each other when given an impossible situation with near-useless tools. Amazingly, the current champion was a civilian with the creative use of whipped cream, a butter knife and a chair against an axe wielding orc. What was even more brilliant was that Hermione judged it to be feasible.

"It's a warning," Felicia cut in. "And we can do preparations for it. We can't send all our men, but what about the Brotherhood and the Order?"

That was actually a good idea. And just like that, Heathers sleeping gift woke up and started sending out visions.

Heather rubbed at her temples as she mentally sorted through everything with expert ease, eyes glazed. "That'll work," she told them. "But we have to do it slowly and gradually. And then sneak in our people as merchants or something."

The committee head that was in-charge of taking care of the messages and the hawk carriers nodded and said, "I'll send out the missives, my lady." Then he left.

The committee head for Internal Relations and the head for Foreign Liaisons were whispering together. They raised a point, "My lady," one of them said. "If orcs are attacking with proper orders, the devastation caused will be greater. As such, the individual villages will flock to the larger cities for protection."

Bugger. From the look on Felicia's face, she also understood where this was going.

"You're right," Heather sighed. "But we can't accommodate them all within the walls.

Felicia frowned. "They can live outside the city walls. We'll just have to build another set of walls. No need for enlargement," this was said with the tone of a person who had found a neat solution.

She wasn't a wizard so Heather forgave Felicia for forgetting about the wards. Because all of them would really have to add another set of wards on top of everything else.

"We don't need walls," another committee head complained. "We'll just build bell towers to ring in case of an attack. Then the people will flock towards the city when it rings."

Cost efficient. Ah, he was the committee head of the Treasury. No wonder.

But no matter how funny it was, he still had a point. War was coming, Heather knew and they needed all the funds to supply it. The war could be felt in the darkness of her visions and the times when she would wake up in the middle of the night, poised to throw the knife she kept under her pillow. She was a war veteran and sometimes her instincts warned her and she believed them because they were ingrained habits of survival.

"We'll go with the bell towers," Heather said, cutting of the rising argument between the different committee heads. Then she directed her eyes to the Treasurer. "Start having a small surplus. It ought to accumulate over time. Everything seems to point towards ear. And if we don't end up involved in it, then it will not hurt us either way."

All of them agreed and understood since all of them had attended Draco's lectures one time or another and his favorite thing to say when students started an argument in front of him was, "Stop quarrelling. It's an expensive waste of my time and my resources."

Heather always had to bite her tongue every time he said that in front of her since she found it so bleeding ironic. This was _Draco_. Enough said.

* * *

With all of their preparations because of Theodreds warning, it took everyone a while to notice that Cailyn was pregnant again.

Guiomer was with Kreacher and Hermione, building the safehouses and practicing his magic at the same time. Hermione was only supposed to supervise for the first two safehouses but Heather knew, with their kind of luck, that complications would arise.

Draco was busy with the brewers and the greenhouses, starting the new surplus methods that would ensure there was enough for daily use and still enough to store.

Meiran and Felicia's efforts were seem as the children ran busy and the carpenters and blacksmiths suddenly became overworked. Even the hospital and the schools buzzed with people and students. Luna would be often seen, gently pushed to the side by her more efficient twin assistants. Heather would have laughed at that if she had the moment to stop and do it, but her time was consumed by increasing the level of training and producing more prepared soldiers. A small portion of that slowly trickled to the Brotherhood, which slowly settled themselves into the fringes of Rohirric territory and was slowly assimilated by Rohan without anybody's knowledge except Prince Theodreds.

But going back to it, the one to first notice was two year-old Aedan, who tugged on Heather's trousers, immediately catching her attention.

"Yes, little dragon slayer?" Heather asked the boy.

Aedan smiled even as his brows crinkled cutely. "Avia, mater is going big in the tummy. Did she eat too much?" he asked innocently.

Oh. Wait, what?

Heather excercised her grandmotherly skills and summoned a smile. It helped that Aedan was in her arms, climbing like a monkey over her shoulders to explore her colorful hair.

"Let's go visit your mater," she said. A quick glance dismissed her men and they headed towards the bakeshop. It made Heather slightly guilty that she was neglecting her daughter-in-law.

Cailyn's eyes were tired as she greeted them and Heathers guilt intensified. "My lady," she said with a smile. "Aedan. What can I do for you?"

Heather had to set Aedan down and they boy immediately clambered on top of Fenny. Then she set the taller woman down on a nearby chair with a deep sigh.

"Cailyn, sweetheart," Heather murmured. "You look like you haven't slept since Guiomer left."

Cailyn started crying and the abrupt change, the weird food and the fits of exhaustion made everything click in Heathers mind. A small tingling of foresight told her that she was right.

"Oh, honey," Heather sighed again. "Do you know you're pregnant?" The question was warranted since Cailyn seemed to be the type not to notice.

"I-I am?" Cailyn asked, genuinely shocked.

Well, that answered the question.

There was no celebration this time, with the gradual hoarding and how occupied everyone was. But there was an increase of gifts and trinkets that they left in her house. Heather, after some internal debate, sent Hafny to Hermione with the news about Cailyn's pregnancy written in code. She would leave it to Hermione's discretion on whether to send Cailyn home or not.

The news was well received by Aedan, and after pestering Luna about pregnancy and why his mother was suddenly crying and laughing in close intervals, went about trotting after his mother like a faithful shadow, making sure her crying fits became more seldom. Due to this, Fenny was often abandoned. Usually, he would collapse by Heather's office door, radiating woe and neglect in  _volumes._

Heather had never seen anything funnier and would usually wait for the fox's arrival eagerly. It was the highlight of her day.

Okay, so maybe she was just a bit sadistic, but Heather also caught Luna's smile and Draco's smirk, so at least she wasn't alone in it.

* * *

Hermione wondered if Heather had another gift aside from her gift of foresight. It certainly felt like it when Hafny came winging down the sky like a particularly feathery ghost, carrying a rolled up letter in her talons just as Hermione was packing her saddlebags to leave Guiomer to the rest of the project. Draco kept muttering about "Potter Luck" or something of that sort. Hermoine was starting to realize that he may have a point in being annoyed by it.

Nobody could do coincidences like Heather could.  _Really annoying._

"Is it from Mater?" Guiomer asked, even as he concentrated on summoning a specific size of rock. Kreacher was beside him, looking as approving as he ever managed, now that 'Young adopted Master Black' was taking his magic seriously.

Hermione shot him an incredulous look for not noticing and then scolded herself for it. Guiomer may have been observant by he wasn't the type to notice pattern behaviors when it came to  _birds_. Hafny was in a pleased and happy state, not even a bit ruffled, indicating that the owl had recently seen Maethor and that the one sending the letter was Heather.

"Hoot!" Hafny said, sounding pleased with herself. Even a bit smug. Hmm, either that hinted at how Heather bribed the bird to send it or the contents of the letter itself. Hermione wasn't taking anything for granted, especially not when it came to Hafny.

Unrolling the letter with some trepidation, Hermione read the letter and then snorted loudly.

"Aunt Enid?" Guiomer asked, voice tinged with surprise.

Hermione felt like she was channeling Heather when a bubble of amusement welled up in her. It couldn't be helped, though, since Hermione's eidetic memory allowed her to remember with perfect detail how pale Guiomer had gotten when he was first told about Aedan's conception. The new little one couldn't possibly engender anything different.

"Guiomer," she said with a barely concealed smirk. "You might want to hurry up with this project.|

"Why?" he asked. He finally put down his wand and gave her his complete and total attention. Hafny at her shoulder was suspiciously still.

"Your wife is having mood swings as violent as a child's see-saw on a stormy day," Hermione said. "And then she'll bloat like a balloon and then pop within nine months."

His face turned blank for a moment, rapidly paling at the eminent realization occurring in his mind. He sat on the ground violently as his knees gave way. Hafny finally flew off as Hermione's shoulders shook too much to be a stable perch. And then, with a speed that shocked her, Guiomers mood changed quickly and completely. His smile was as blinding as the sun and his eyes shone with such happiness that it hurt just to watch it.

"Another one," he whispered. Then he grabbed the nearest body, who happened to be Kreacher, and then swung him around despite the House-elf's vehement protests.

Hermione gave in and just doubled over with laughter.

* * *

DEELETED SCENES:

**Something Fishy (And the reason for all that hospital visits)**

Pelan woke up tired that morning and was immediately saddened by that fact. He was in Haven, the city where there was little to no crimes and had special jobs for orphans.  _Why_  was he sad?

To try to make up for it, he went to the statue of Dancing Nymph since looking at the beautiful statue always lifted his spirits. When he got there, he received the shock of his life. The statue was in a different position. She was still beautiful and still wearing the same beautiful dress. The only thing different was her position and the shepherds staff that lay at her feet.

It was almost as though she decided to move!

A quick mental smack and he was headed to the hospital. Really, he was probably sick if he couldn't remember how the Nymph was really positioned.


	27. You learn something everyday

The territory that Haven claimed was fairly large when compared to its neighboring countries. Compared to the countries in earth, however, it was comparable to the size of Austria. As someone once put it, the size of a pancreas. That phrase was at least kinder than the one who compared it to the heel of a boot.

But, as Heather did the statistics in her mind, that was only because earth was so much bigger and had a  _lot_  more people. Like, a lot. She felt like it bore repeating just to emphasize the point of it.

Currently, Haven was on its way to becoming the size of a liver. Earthwise, that was like, encroaching on the territory of Germany and Slovenia. Just a teeny tiny bit of encroachment, really. For Arda, that was a  _large_ expansion. It was really a good thing that the wards were flexible and easily applicable for a larger scale.

On a different note, the small ten-foot, five-inch wall was  _not._  So, as suggested on the impromptu meeting, they built the Bell tower that would ring for their newer residents.

Heather, as Hermione was  _still_  not returned from the safehouse project, was the one tasked where to build it. It would have to be a place that maximized its properties. She chose to build it on an intersection of five districts, with the slightly hollow little bowl shape to make it ring outward like a rippling thing.

Draco designed the tower and Luna took over the runic application to keep it standing for another two hundred years.

By the end of it, all three of them sighed and exchanged glances, all sharing the same thought of,  _It would have gone faster with Hermione around._

The creation of the Bell tower was something of a marvel to everyone because Draco designed it to be taller than the watch towers they created for the purpose of holding archers and the main defense of Haven, which were armed with modified x-bows (that could target large enemies over eighty meters away.). Children would be seen flocking to the base of the tower just to watch the men work. Heather couldn't exactly blame them since the slowly rising tower was beautifully designed.

It would serve as a mess hall and a lounge for soldier's off-duty, which explained its width. On every other floor, there were stone angels carved, which Heather discreetly enchanted into animation for when Haven would be sieged. (She had been told about enchanting the four cardinal statues for the city and had seethed with jealousy that she hadn't had a try for her own statue while Draco smirked, having expected her reaction.) It rose in dark brown and grey colors, sturdy and beautiful at the same time. The runes ran around the tower, carved deep into the wood and glowing the faint blue of protection and resilience.

Heather had to commend the people of Haven when they saw the obvious magic. They merely looked at the sigils and nodded like they had expected it. She supposed that the rumors had something to do with it. Luna had remarked that their magic was something of an open secret in Haven: Something known and acknowledged but never actually said out loud.

That raised some concerns regarding their new citizens but she underestimated her people  _again._ They welcomed the refugees with exuberance, explaining the Charter and expounding on the silent, unsaid rules. The new residents did look a bit culture shocked but a few days spent with the committee assigned to welcome them and suddenly, they were as happy and as rooted down as any native.

There were some that struggled to adjust to the fact that a majority of the leaders of Haven were  _women_ , but Draco, the only male leader within in the city with Guiomers absence, merely raised an eyebrow when challenged with that question and directed the ones complaining to the Training courts on the days that coincided with Heather's day-offs and when she was busy pounding the floor with her new trainees. The complaints died down rather quickly, leaving Heather slightly confused as to why that was.

Upon being questioned, Draco looked so innocent that she knew he had something to do with it and she just shook her head and changed the subject.

It was almost like a repeat of the old economic boom that happened at the advent of the creation of the Order, except this was on a bigger scale. And harder. Way,  _way_  harder seeing as Hermione wasn't there. Meiran and Deimos had to be pulled in to cover for her absence, which was funny to watch. Both of them tended to avoid each other because they were the exact definition of a wrong chemical combination.

And of course, there was Faramir, whose schedule was shot to kingdom come with the effects of the expansion.

Faramir was, initially, pushed to one department and then pushed to the other department until Meiran finally grabbed him. The poor man received a crash course on leadership and the proper standards for merchant wares after that. He served as a temporary assistant and Draco and Heather didn't complain or try to grab him back because, even if he looked confused and bewildered out of his mind every time they saw him, he also looked challenged and completely pushed to his limits.

Apparently, he liked being stressed to learn. Go figure.

"We might as well make a country out of this," Draco muttered to both of them one night. He looked tired and there were new stress lines on his face. In a fit of vanity, he had complained about it even as Luna remarked that it added character to his face. "We certainly fit the requirements," he said.

And how strange was it that they knew the requirements for making a country? After all, that remark wasn't said only once by Draco and after some curiosity, she researched it in their ever-growing library.

What came back both bothered and amused her.

 _Population of more than five thousand?_  Check. That was even rising to seven thousand with the new citizens that arrived and it was still rising.

 _A fully operational military system?_  Check. No need to even ask that.

 _A functioning medical department?_  Check. There was no need to even think about it, really. Luna was all over it like fur on a cat.

 _A continuous development towards improvement?_  Check. They had an R&D department of all things.

 _Literacy rate of more than fifty percent?_  Check. They were hitting towards ninety percent with Hermione's intervention but who was counting?

 _Having your own language?_  Check. Well, it was taken from Rome, but it wasn't likely that anybody would complain, seeing the lack of Romans around.

 _History of more than thirty years?_  Check. They were on thirty-five, last Heather counted and Felicia's hobby on her day-offs consisted of writing down the history of Haven.

They really would be more respected by the other countries if their history hit at least a hundred but who was counting? Haven was given its name for more reasons that just safety. It was Luna's dream of a medical institution, the personification of Draco's wish for progress, Hermione's utopia for perfect standards of literacy and Heather's ideal of a city free of prejudice.

"A country," Luna agreed. "With the capital city of Haven. That's just brilliant." Her tired gray eyes shone with giddiness.

Heather interrupted both of them before their planning could run away with them. Sheesh, even practical Draco was acting like a demented bat. "We'll make preparations," she said. "But I'm not doing this without Hermione. And we'll have to mark our territory with outposts. And then there would be letters to write and – "

Luna started laughing. "You're sounding hysterical! Breathe, feather!"

Buggering purebloods and buggering Luna.  _She_  wasn't the one to tell Rohan of it's new neighbor, even if they had a fairly large field and a long range of mountains that separated them. The idea of setting the boundaries with King Theoden over a cup of tea made her shiver in apprehension.

And no one was sympathetic to her plight.  _At. All._

"Hermione," Heather sighed. "Come home!"

* * *

Hermione scowled at the map of the North that was dotted with red.

Guiomer, after calming down of his baby-high, started panicking because while he really wanted to go home and check on his wife, he understood why his mother tacked him to create the safehouses. They were Really  _Important_. It deserved the capitals since his weaker precognition shivered every time he finished one of the safehouses. Every time that happened, it meant the future changed and he knew it was for the better. (He didn't bother to check after the first time it happened and he gave himself a migraine in using his gift.)

So he wanted to finish the project faster (because he estimated this one would take a  _long_  time and he didn't want to go home just to watch the birthday process. He wanted to watch his sweet Cailyn swell and grow big with his child too.) and then realized that  _Hermione_  was there and both of them could half the time by doing different safehouses at the same time.

Hence the scowling at the poor and innocent map.

Because one of the things Guiomer forgot was that while he could survive in the middle of nowhere with just a knife and the clothes on his back, Hermione had to make do with a wand. Also, she had very little experience by way of maps.

One more cursory look at the map only irritated Hermione further since all she understood were squiggles and smudges. When she was travelling around Arda, there were actually reliable people to  _ask_  and a horse to guide her. Hermione never underestimated horses since they were rather intelligent and sensitive when it came to the miasma she searched for back then.

With a vile oath that would have shocked anybody that knew her well – since Hermione cursing was a very bad omen – she dropped the map and yelled, " _Kreacher!_ "

There was no crack of apparition, only the fuzzy buzzing of elvish invisibility dropping - which meant that the bloody elf had been watching her puzzle at the Merlin-blessed map for thirty minutes.

"Miss Hermione needs help with the map?" the house-elf asked. It was only because he didn't sound condescending or amused that Hermione's temper kept. He sounded genuinely  _concerned._

Oh, bugger it. He was here anyway and nobody else was around.

"Not only that, Kreacher," Hermione sighed. "I need tea, cookies and your help with the map. In exactly that order."

The house-elf beamed like she had just given him an underground sewer to clean overnight and then he vanished with a crack.

* * *

The wards informed the wizards of the general intentions of the people that crossed it. With the expansion, it wasn't exactly quiet for their senses, what with people arriving every day and crossing it, looking for Heather or any of the others. Those that remained learned to ignore the constant pinging to their senses and only really noticed it if there was a hint of desperation in their thoughts. (Which actually helped with a group of injured refugees that had a run in with a rabid bear.) With that development, a group of orphans were stationed by the walls to fetch the person needed for each pertinent group.

It was with a groan that Heather received the news that  _someone_  was looking for her especially.

"Foreign clothes, my lady," the orphan added helpfully.

Heather resisted the urge to roll herself down the stairs of her office because it would at least give her the excuse of a concussion and some broken bones for resting.

When she reached the gates, she wanted to curse the orphan. Foreign clothes indeed!

That was an elf. Unlike the ones in Rivendell, who were dressed in shimmering silks and looked like starlight when they moved, this one was dressed in muted greens, browns and greys. He would blend perfectly with a forest.

"Yes?" she asked the cold looking elf. Hell, even Elladan and Elrohir looked less like icebergs. She was probably influenced by the fact that the twins were always in the garb of rangers and looked slightly rugged and less like statues of angels than the one in front of her.

"You are the Queen of this country?" he asked. "I am Fallidor. The prince of the Northern wood and his travelling companions will pass here within a day. I am tasked to find an adequate inn. Does your country have anything sufficient?"

Once Heather could pick her jaw from the floor, she didn't have the heart to correct him that no, she wasn't a Queen and that they weren't an established country  _yet._

Heather pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes briefly in a futile effort to stave off her rising headache. "You can try the Rising Eagle," she said. "That is our best one so far."

She clucked to a wandering orphan to direct her to wherever Meiran had dragged Faramir and used that spare time to ask for information regarding the Northern Woods. Since Meiran was tacked in with merchants, she was very well informed when it came to gossip outside Haven.

* * *

Faramir's face would have been funny if Heather could look at it properly. As such, both of them were listening to Meirans explanation with identical expressions of intensity. It was probably the one topic that Meiran outclassed them all.

"Mirkwood," Meiran explained patiently as she did her paperwork at the same time. "Is the name recently given to the Northern woods when travelers passed the woods and never came out again. Everybody said that it has something to do with a Necromancer in the Southern part of the woods. Of course, Gandalf was asked to do something about it and he said that something was holding the darkness at bay so it wasn't as bad as it could be."

Idly, Heather remembered the days when Hermione wandered the darkest places of Arda. The Northern woods, or Mirkwood, must have been one of those places. She coughed to draw her attention out of that.

"Right," Meiran continued. "They are highly territorial and as secretive as the elves in Lothlorien. As big on the wilderness as you are, my lady so I don't know  _why_  they are here. They could probably camp in a cave or sleep in the trees and be happy."

Heather thanked Meiran as she walked away, her mind thrumming with theories and postulates. She had to take it up with the stuffy purebloods in their group since something probably escaped her.

Luna, of course, only nodded. "That's probably because they have somewhere important to get to," she said. "Meiran might say that they are as good at surviving the wilderness as you, but dirt and grass stains and tree sap are really hard on clothes, especially when you want to be dignified," she said.

Heather, who had clothes she saved just for trekking the wilderness that looked so stained that it was practically  _designed_  with it, never counted that. She laughed and looked to Draco, who probably had a different theory.

He didn't disappoint when he raised his eyebrows and said, "Ah, they probably have someone with them that needs medical attention or a guest that isn't too used to travelling for weeks and weeks without civilization in sight."

Before Heather could add anything else, both of them immediately started placing bets on it.

It was so typical of both of them that Heather was tempted to use her gift to see who would win just to see it over with. Instead, she just rolled her eyes heaven wards and made an exaggerated gesture for patience. Cailyn, who had volunteered to cook dinner because she was due for a check with the family OB-GYN, giggled.

* * *

Precognition was a good thing when it warned you of sibling arguments.

Before she could even place on her gloves, the gift kicked in and told her that Luna and Draco would be arguing and it would be another massive headache for her so she switched tactics and started strapping on her multitudes of daggers and her two knives. She was going to do a border patrol with the recently placed outposts that dotted the borders of the slowly establishing country.  _Anything_  to escape her two siblings that were probably going to argue just to release their stress and tension. Both of them were weird that way.

An orphan was sent to warn the captains to saddle a horse of her while she hastily gobbled down the remains of last night's dinner that was under a stasis charm.

Draco and Luna would complain and poor Meiran would bear the brunt of it in her absence. Heather didn't care since she only had a couple of hours left before she had to deal with another foreign dignitary. An elfish, foreign dignitary at that.

* * *

Everything, annoyingly, went to hell in the middle of the patrol.

Heather had, of course, been a smidge bit suspicious since this was  _her_  and nothing  _normal_  ever happened to her before. The patrol had been going a tad bit too easy in her mind. Draco called it her damned Potter Luck. Heather just called it her curse.

It started with a warning shout from the scouts and then the neighing of the poor horses that scented the blood. There was the stench of orc and steel and  _everything_  that usually followed thereafter.

"Take the left point," she snapped to the four archers they had. "You lot," she pointed to the three swordsmen. "With me. The rest of you pick out those that are too far away for the archers and are edging to run away."

It was a standard tactic she taught to minimize casualties and to give the archers the freedom to rain hell on the far side of the warriors. The only thing she told those that chose to pick up the bow was to never miss and never hesitate.

Everything was fast and nearly insane. Heather tossed around her daggers, imbedding them into skulls and knocking them down. Her knives danced and parried and she found herself wishing, however fleetingly, that she could have a sword to at least decapitate someone with because it would just feel so satisfying after receiving a few lucky hits from the mindless ingrates.

That became a real, solid wish when she glanced around and saw that everyone was finishing up – and were those civilians at the sides? – And that the last opponent was a mountain troll. Somebody was holding him down with rope and aiming arrows at his face.

Brilliant but it was only making the troll angrier since he was the older kind, the one with skin as thick as rock. The mountain troll in the girl's bathroom was toddler-sized compared to the monstrosity that this one was.

"Can you keep distracting him?" she asked the blonde man.

A quick nod and Heather ran around it, careful of the trolls flailing arms, and whipped out a pair of her last daggers, using it like a mountain climber would use an ice pick to climb a snowy mountain. His skin really was exceptionally hard since she needed to reinforce her blades with magic to keep it working. When she got to the top, she took a breath and shouted, " _Reducto!_ "

 _Diffindo_  would have been good but she wasn't sure if it was enough to cut the trolls thick skin so she went with the  _Reducto_  option. That spell, however useful, needed close range since her wandless magic wasn't  _that_ good for that spell. Hence, the dagger climbing on troll back. Her poor blades would probably have to be thrown away in the face of all that abuse.

The Impervious charm saved her face and her hair from being splattered with troll brain matter. It didn't save her clothes from the gooey, squelching substance, sadly. She jumped down as the troll finally fell due to the absence of its head.

"You fight well," the man said. All of the patrol had gathered to watch the take down and Heather finally,  _finally_  noticed that he wasn't one of her men, or even a man. He was another elf.

He smiled at her and only constant exposure to Draco rendered Heather not quite so affected by that sweet and gentle smile.

"I am Legolas of the Northern woods," he continued.

Heathers brain struggled to stand up and run around in panic.  _This_  was the stuffy elvish dignitary she was waiting for?

Merlin's  _arse._

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**How to deal with an axe-wielding orc  
** _(with only a butter knife, a chair and whipped cream)_

The civilian blinked at the situation presented. Around her, all the other citizens were thinking about using the rubber band to triple the force behind a throw of a rotten egg, smash the trolls nose with an egg beater and, while the troll was still recovering, run like a mad monkey.

Meanwhile, the civilian was wondering about the whipped cream that was mentioned and what to do about that buggering axe because she did not want to have her head decapitated, even in a mock scenario. She was rather fond of her head, thanks. At the same time, she mulled over the whipped cream because she knew that it was very thick and she remembered an incident when it accidentally got into her eyes and it had hurt like the nine hells.

She found her hand going up. Lady Enid pointed at her with a fond smile. "Yes, my dear? What would you do?" she was asked.

The civilian laid it out thoughtfully. "There are a lot of options, my lady. The axe is rather a problem, but I would assume that the adrenaline of the situation would allow me enough strength to block the trolls axe with the wooden chair and disarm him in a moment of struggle and insane panic," she said.

At the back, someone snickered. The civilian ignored him. She was logically trying to assimilate the situation in her mind and she didn't need arseholes to distract her.

"Once the axe is taken away," she continued slowly. "I would find the means to distract him. The rotten egg would be a very good option, but it is farther away from my position. So I would have to grab the nearest thing and that is the whipped cream."

Someone else laughed outright and that incited a wave of amused snorts and chuckles.

Her cheeks burned and she bit her cheek to stave off the burn of embarrassment. It helped that beside Lady Enid, Lady Gryffon was smiling and giving her a discreet thumbs up.

"So what would you do with the whipped cream?" Lady Cailyn asked with sincere curiosity.

Courage returned. "I would blind him and the loss of sight and the pain of the whipped cream will disorient and distract him from me. There are three sharp objects stated in the scenario. There is the corkscrew, the butter knife and the fork. However, I do not have enough strength, or aiming capacity to use the rubber band to plunge the corkscrew into the jugular of the orc, nor will the forks tines withstand the pressure of stabbing it. So the butter knife will do and I can use it to slice the orcs neck, or slice open the tendons of his legs to prevent him from walking. And then I can run away."

The laughter had been dying down as she explained further and there was only complete silence when she finished.

Lady Gryffon broke it by clapping. "Well done," she said in that tone of voice that told everybody that she was very happy and on the verge of laughing. "It factored in the positions of all the objects in the scenario. You even guessed the use of the rubber band!"

Lady Enid had been scribbling in a piece of parchment and her eyes were shining with mirth as she finished. "Yes," she said. "I have calculated it and it is possible."

Everybody congratulated the civilian after they got over her shock. The civilian was only thanking her lucky stars for having tried squirting herself in the eye with whipped cream once while cooking. She would have discounted it too.


	28. Fate? Coincidence?

It was almost like Heather's time in Hogwarts prepared her for the insanity that was Haven. Especially in lieu of the embarrassing moments, like facing someone important covered in something unmentionable. Blaise and Sirius had of course, covered a complete course on how to deal with it. Understandable since Blaise and Sirius were just the sort to get into impossibly embarrassing situations.

There was second year, when the Heir of Slytherin hoax started and Heather was still shy and timid and afraid of everyone's thoughts. Blaise had happened to pass by her in the library, hiding, and had raised his eyebrows in consternation.

"Why do you care?" he had said. "Why do you care of what they think? They aren't exactly important to you."

The words had struck a cord deep in her and her eyes had opened impossibly wide to stare at him. Everything just  _tilted_  and she had looked at the world with changed eyes.

Fred and George Weasley had started the spontaneity in her when both of them found her in her third year, looking longingly at the snow while everyone else played in it and she was stuck inside because of the mass murderer that was supposedly her godfather.

"You're afraid of Sirius Black?" Fred had asked incredulously.

"And that's why you won't go outside," George added blankly.

Both of them had exchanged glances and had looked at her with complete sadness. Back then, she had thought it to be pitying. Now that she looked at the memory properly, it was just sadness because they could not believe anybody could be ever be so afraid that they could forget to live properly.

"If you're going to die," George eventually said.

"Then at least you'd have tried snow diving and sledding down the slopes in Hagrid's cabin," Fred continued.

Sirius had cemented everything in her fifth year by embodying everything that three boys taught her.

"Aren't you afraid?" she had asked him when they sneaked out of Grimmauld place when he was technically a wanted criminal and she a deranged mad woman.

He flashed her that grin that spoke of volumes and volumes of mischief. "What's to be afraid of? It's better than withering away. Come on, little fawn!"

Heather remembered those lessons as she walked into her city with bloodied trousers.

Her men had, at least, found a clean shirt to replace her old one with so she didn't look like she had just come straight from a horror movie.

The elvish contingent behind her were too preoccupied by their surroundings to notice the horrified, curious and alarmed expressions that she garnered. They didn't even  _look_  like they had come from tangling with orcs, wargs and goblins. Heather felt like hating them for that, just a little.

"My lady," an orphan called to her. "Lady Eilys is a waiting in the hospital."

Heather swiftly changed directions and clucked at the boy, instructing him with a gesture to lead the contingent to the Rising Eagle.

Prince Legolas called to her as she turned to walk away. "My lady," he said. "I wish to speak with you under better circumstances."

Heather wanted to show her surprise so  _badly_  because the bugger didn't know how rare it was for elves to seek her out. They had elves and dwarves passing through Haven, true, but none of them really interacted with the humans beyond purchasing supplies and selling goods.

"Of course, my lord," she answered instead. "You can find me in the Training courts at dawn. Beyond that, the orphans know so please just ask them."

Upon reaching the hospital, Heather was greeted by Luna and  _Draco_. Luna fussed over the minor nicks and scratches while Draco loomed in the background, scowling and generally looking unimpressed. He finally broke his silence when Luna finished bandaging the last one, a gash that ran up her thigh that had clotted up in the walk back to the city.

"What," he asked slowly. "Possessed you to do that? You didn't have a sword or  _the_  Sword. I thought you could tell the future?"

That stung. Like, ouch.

Luna didn't need to glance between the two of them to read the angry tension in the air. She could probably hear their souls or something. Heather really didn't know since she hadn't exactly sat down with Luna to have a chat about the full scope of her powers.

But going back to it...

Heather narrowed her eyes at Draco. "The future isn't set in stone, brother," she said softly. "This morning, I foresaw you and moonbeam having an argument that lasted for the whole day. So I left because I did not wish to get involved with that. My leaving apparently changed the future because instead of the squad losing two men and some of the guests receiving injuries, I prevented that. I can't  _be_  coddled, Hodur. These things happen whether you like it or not."

Draco's nostrils flared and he used wandless magic to close the door with a  _bang!_  Then he whipped off his blindfold to subject her to the full force of his expressive eyes.

"Did you not think?" he asked. To Heather's alarm, there was a note of desperation in his voice. "Did you not think of how we would feel when we woke to find you gone? Not even a note. We had to ask the children!"

Heather blinked at that and then blinked several times in quick succession when she realized what that meant.

It wasn't quite obvious but Heather was a creature of habit. To those who only knew her fleetingly, she was erratic and difficult to pin down. To those that knew her intimately, she was simple and easy to predict if you just noted her moods and triggers.

On days when she was bored, she wandered the city and made herself familiar to the people. Those were also the days wherein you expected the crazy and impossible happening because a bored Heather was  _dangerous._ If she didn't have paperwork and something frustrated her, she took it out in the Training courts and whoever was unfortunate enough to pass by in the courtyard. If something did come up and she couldn't physically tire herself on it, she would brood about it and chew on it for weeks until she worked it out of her system.

On mornings, she was especially predictable.

She would wake by dawn, start her training regime, come back to the house and argue with Kreacher on the right to cook breakfast. The yelling and dramatic bangings in the kitchen usually worked as an alarm clock, a warning system for Draco and Luna that it was already time to wake up.

That she had joined the morning patrol  _without warning_  her siblings about the sudden change, or even leaving a note was alarming. She had stopped joining the patrol 3 _years_  ago. And even if there wasn't any note left, the absence of Heather's magical core within the city and the wards itself would have made them worried enough.

Draco had the Merlin-blessed right to be angry then.

Heather's irritation at being sniped at drew away, almost like it was a balloon that had been pricked by a needle.

"Draco," she whispered, using his real name to make him realize how serious she was. "I'm sorry. That vision took me by surprise and I  _am_  worried about Hermione and Guiomer. And then - "

Heather was suddenly aware that she was blabbing and clamped a hand over her mouth. She was spouting excuses and Draco didn't need her excuses. He deserved her promise to not do the same thing again.

Draco deflated as well. His shoulders slumped and he ran his hands through his hair, dislodging the leather that tied it back from his face.

"Potter," he sighed and then he shuddered, his mind rejecting the images his imagination had probably conjured regarding her absence. "Heather," he started again. "Just be careful, alright? We're the only wizards in Arda and this Dark Lord is powerful and has powerful servants. I can  _see_  the darkness."

Wasn't that frightening?

Luna sat next to Heather on the examination table and both of them held hands just for reassurance. After all, Draco's eyes could see more than anyone's.

"You can  _see_  the darkness?" Luna asked, her voice faint.

He nodded, hands fiddling with the black blindfold. His face was grim and serious. "I thought it was my imagination," he explained. "But the darkness is originating from the South and it is spreading into  _everything._  The trees, the earth and the people."

Heather's hands clenched in worry. "And Haven?" she demanded. "What about our people?"

Draco offered her a small smile. "The darkness is held at bay. It is a good thing that we warded it the way we are doing. If we chose the standard warding, this will be like water steadily chipping away at stone," he said.

Their schedules were already disrupted and so the three of them decided to share a late breakfast in one of the more popular restaurants. All of them  _needed_  to see and touch each other for reassurance.

Draco needed to see Heather alive to negate his hyperactive imagination. Heather and Luna just needed comfort after hearing that bit about the darkness of the South. Really, there was news and then there was  _news._

* * *

Regarding the bet taken by Luna and Draco, neither of them won. Prince Legolas explained his situation while Heather tried hard not to laugh. She could picture, quite clearly, the twin looks of dismay on their faces when she in turn would explained it to them.

"We are escorting several humans from the laketown that barters steadily with our settlement," Legolas expounded. "We don't usually do this but my father also has an urgent message for Elrond Half-elven."

Ah, it compounded both their theories nicely.

Heather schooled her expression to prevent it from showing her amusement. This was one person she really shouldn't offend.

"I see," Heather said. She was proud of herself since her voice did not crack, or waver. "So you stopped in my city because of the civilians."

Prince Legolas's face settled into a frown. Mind you, his frown was only a tiny crease of his eyebrows since he controlled his facial expressions quite well. The elf was  _really_  polite that it unnerved Heather. She had the feeling that most of the expressions he showed were practiced in front of a mirror of some sorts. It was just  _too_  perfect.

"They were rather...discontented with the constant travel. My companions were hard pressed to keep them entertained," he said.

Since Heather was used to Hermione's euphemisms and politically correct terms, she gathered that the civilians had complained a lot about the trekking. Pity and kinship welled up in her.

"Really?" she asked. "I suppose there will be enough things happening in Haven to keep them entertained for a while. Where were you escorting them to?"

A small quirk of his lips. Probably his version of outright laughing.

"These residents of Esgaroth lake town have heard of your shining jewel for a city and wished to see it for themselves," he said. "Our bargain expressly stated that their journey ended in Haven."

Esgaroth. A quick poke of her memory told her where that was and she almost gaped at him.

Of all the magic-blessed things. She really hoped someone would think of a better mode of transportation. No wonder the civilians had groused and complained. The journey from Northern woods to Haven took nearly four months of constant travel. That was especially trying for a first time trip.

Now, how do you explain that to an elf who probably thought of the wilderness and travelling like a fish thought of the ocean? Ah, nevermind. She would worry about it later.

"I'll see to their comfort to prevent the discontentment," Heather remarked, a grin working its way to her lips.

To her surprise, Prince Legolas actually  _laughed._  It was as interesting as watching enchanted statues come to life. Hmm, perhaps he wasn't an ice-cold snob. If she was being kind, Heather might as well call him shy and polite.

Being a noble-born and an elf, how much interaction has he actually had with humans in the thousand years he has been alive? That was a puzzle. Rivendell and its elves were special cases, after all. It saw a lot of human traffic since it was one of the more friendly elvish settlements. In terms of metaphors, Rivendell was the elvish version of Haven.

"When is your father expecting you?" she asked him.

"Not for another year, my lady," he answered.

She flashed him a wicked grin. "Spend a season with us after you send your message to Lord Elrond. After all, it takes a while for the passes to clear during winter and Haven is brilliantly beautiful to behold during that time."

It was a suggestion and it was up to him to take it. And the great plus? He was actually thinking about it. A month or two of staying in their city and he might not be quite so socially retarded.

Well, one could hope. He was, after all, a thousand years old and years of habit would be difficult to undo with just a few months.

* * *

Heather stared and stared at the letter, blinked to see if she was imagining it. When it didn't go away, she closed her open jaw and looked to the ambassador of Duke Bard.

"It is real, Lady Gryffon," the man said placidly. He looked like a strong wind would keel him over. He had introduced himself as Jansen and Heather found him so wierd that all she could do was listen bemusedly as he expounded on the letter from the Duke of Esgaroth. "In the light of recent events," he was saying. "The honourable Duke has realized our severe need for manpower and a true system of government. Many of the other countries have all that but rumors of Haven's hospitality and its spreading wisdom reached us."

Just to explain Heather's incredulity, the Duke of Esgaroth wanted Esgaroth to be a vassal to Haven. More specifically, to their as-yet-unnamed country.

It was freaking creepy how these things happened to her. Heather was starting to think that someone was messing with her. Because, for Helga's sake, they'd only started thinking about properly establishing a country last month. How in the world did word of  _that_  get to a town with a four-month journey?

If anyone had an answer, she would dearly like to know.

"Forgive my surprise," Heather managed. "I'll talk this over with my siblings and we will try to hammer out an agreement of sorts."

The ambassador gave a cheery grin and a bow, leaving her office and making Heather feel more than a little awkward. In her  _own office._  The fellow truly had a personality, or maybe it was the blood loss from all the injuries she received the previous morning. Either way, something about the fellow made her feel a little off-kilter.

When Heather got over her shock, she apparated to Draco's office, not caring who would see her because, really, who didn't  _not_  know about their magic anyway? Thankfully, Draco was only with Meiran and Faramir, reviewing over stock supply lists while brewing several potions at the same time.

Faramir had been slowly introduced to the idea of magic so the sight of the cauldrons stirring themselves didn't induce as much shock as it should have.

"Gryffon," Draco growled. Then he noticed the look on her face and stood up, dropping the papers he was holding. "What is it?" he asked gently.

Heather was aware that she may have been hyperventilating. Draco had to take her hands and chafe them to get her attention.

"Better?" he asked.

She managed a shaky nod. "Yeah," she said. Then her eyes widened in realization and she scowled at him. "You complete and utter arse!" she yelled.

Draco's eyes were wide and his eyebrows were raised. "How am I an arse?" he asked.

"You hexed us!" Heather said, almost pointing an accusing finger at him. "You kept nattering about creating a country and what-not. Now we've got people who want to be vassalled or something."

He laughed and it made Heather realize that she was acting ridiculous. "Godric's sake, woman," he chortled. "You're not making any sense at all."

Heather shoved the letter in his face as explanation and sat on a vacant chair to compose herself. She gave a vague greeting to Meiran and Faramir while she waited for Draco to understand  _why_  she was in shock.

"Have you learned anything this past month?" she asked Faramir.

Faramir nodded enthusiastically. "A fair lot, my lady. Miss Meiran has not left me idle."

"Good. I was worried that we were neglecting you."

Draco's exclamation cut off the reply Faramir was making. "How in magic's name did they know?" Draco demanded.

Heather laughed. "Now you know how I feel!" When he scowled at her, she added, "I'll leave you and Eilys to hammer out the agreement with the ambassador. It's making that pureblood lessons useful at least."

The problem was pushed on to someone else and it made Heather feel immensely better. More so than usual because Draco really was easy to rile up and he made the most brilliant expressions of anger.

"Gryffon!" Draco exclaimed. "You're letting Eilys  _organize_  something? Have you gone mad?"

Heather shot him a speaking look. "You're telling me that you can't manage your own twin?"

"That's not the point!" he spluttered.

It truly was the perfect stress reliever right next to torturing trainees.

* * *

Luna watched the argument in front of her with shining eyes. It really was better than any drama or comedy that anyone could come up with.

"You're an asshole!" Meiran yelled while she stamped forms with vehemence.

Deimos was drafting a letter and he didn't even glance up or look at her as he sniped back, "And you're needy, demanding and opinionated."

As Meiran seethed in anger, Luna turned entertained eyes to Phobos, who was calculating hospital rotations at the same time.

"What do you think will happen if we lock them in a spare bedroom for a day?" she asked Phobos.

He gave her a serious and considering look. "That depends on what you hear, my lady," he answered.

Luna cocked her head to the side as she pinpointed Meiran and Deimos in the clamoring voices inside the Administration building. Draco's assistant was easy to identify since her soul sounded like a snowy blizzard and the scorching gale of the desert at the same time. Deimos was even easier because Luna had worked with the twins for a long time and was familiar with the texture of her assistant's soul. He sounded like a twisting tornado of energy.

She gave a soft and gentle smile of happiness. "I believe they would appreciate it if we do," she told Phobos.

Phobos's sleepy soul actually woke and buzzed a bit as he laughed. "My lady," he said."I will manage my brother and I will leave the banshee to your care."

Luna very rarely caused mayhem and chaos like Heather did and she really didn't do any of it on purpose but as she listened to the couples curses, she felt like she understood Heather a bit more. It was bleeding entertaining.

* * *

Guiomer bit back a curse as he ducked under an axe swing.

He had finally understood why it took months to finish the project and why he needed Kreacher to help him. Setting up the wards for each safehouse made him tired and lethargic for three days. Granted, Kreacher did check on him every other two days or something, but that visit didn't coincide with the marauding bandits attacking him when he was still tired and recovering his magical core.

Buggering, Godric-cursed bandits.

The one plus in the entire situation, as far as he was concerned, was that Guiomer had finally managed to learn how to transfigure a needle. He hadn't learned it properly back then as he didn't understand  _why_  he would need to transfigure a needle. In the middle of being attacked while he still came from sleeping, that was the first spell in his mind and a thousand pebbles rose, turned sharp and shiny and then incapacitated the poor sod that tried to slot his throat in his sleep.

The rest of the party had turned and fled except for the biggest idiot that also wielded the biggest axe and sword in the whole of Arda. The sword was actually big enough to be called a claymore.

"Stop running and stand still!" Big and stupid roared.

"No, thank you!" Guiomer called. He ducked and rolled and finally,  _finally_  his panic-riddled mind recalled a spell. "Scourgify!" he yelled and aimed his finger at the mans eyes.

The bandit roared in pain and dropped the axe. Guiomer hurriedly pointed at the axe and it turned into a really weird horse with a sharp axe for a head. It butted its previous owner and the man was cut clean through.

Guiomer allowed himself a moment to regain his breath and then he walked over to the tree that held the sword of Gryffindor. It had flown and embedded there when the giant accidentally disarmed him.

That fight was a good thing because it reminded him of his magical heritage and

that not all battles were won with strength alone.

"What a pain," Guiomer muttered as he removed the magic in the transfigured horse-like creature and it turned back into an ordinary axe. "I am not dying until I at least see my second child and give him a name," he said softly.

Even if he was annoyed, he still lowered the man into the earth. He kept the two weapons in a satchel with the Undetectable Extension charm to be sold or given to his mother.

A wave of his hand packed all of his belongings and Guiomer shouldered the satchel as he just decided to go to the next location. He still had three more safehouses to go before he could go home.

* * *

Lord Hodur walked by him and paused. "Phobos, have you seen Meiran?" he asked.

Phobos bit his lip and lied, "No, my lord."

Lord Hodur gave a sigh. "Where is that woman?" he muttered before moving on, carrying several boxes and not bumping into a single person as he went by. Phobos still found it creepy that he didn't bump into anyone when he was blind. Then again, Lord Hodur and Lady Eilys were twins. Perhaps he could hear souls too?

"How many more hours are you keeping them inside?" Lady Eilys asked as she passed by him. She was pointedly looking at the key to the locked bedroom that was tied to his belt.

Phobos allowed himself a smirk. "It's already unlocked, my lady," he answered. "They are just not coming out."

Lady Eilys's tinkling, chime-like laughter rang out in the corridor.

* * *

The Bell tower was finally finished and Heather breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone gathered as it rang for the first time, loud and clear. It reverberated across the mountains and echoed back two-fold. It wasn't painful to the ears but very sweet and comforting.

It was almost like...

"Reassurance," Luna murmured. "It is a sound of hope."

Heather gave a small laugh. "Yes," she said. "It will be a bell of Hope." Precognition kicked in and she continued in a trance-like voice, "So long as the Bell tower stands, Haven will still stand and fight."

Draco and Luna nodded, knowing a prophecy when they heard one.

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**Moments of accidental magic**

Aedan used his magic when he was one and a half years old. He used it to change his own diaper. Kreacher saw it and clucked at him sternly for doing his job. The elf's eyes were shining with pride.

His next bit of magic was when he was two years old and he vanished his own hair. No one noticed since it only lasted for five minutes.

His next magic was more obvious. He made the walls change colors because he was upset.

Cailyn, having been warned, laughed proudly. And then she started crying, depressed that Guiomer was not in Haven so she could tell him about the magic.

Aedan scowled at his unborn sibling for causing his mothers mood-swings. Sadly, the baby couldn't answer him in any shape or form.


	29. Reunions and Secrets

Legolas watched with growing bewilderment and incomprehension as the Lord of Rivendell scowled the more he talked.

Well, it wasn't exactly a scowl because Legolas knew that Elrond Half-elven was too proper and too controlled for that but he did show his distress in the stiffness in his shoulders and the quirk of his eyebrows. His mouth too wasn't set in its usual smile but in a neutral line.

"Gryffon," Elrond stated at the end of the narrative. "Lady of Haven and a  _swordswoman,_ " he stressed the last word with an appalled and distressed air. "Had no sword?"

In hindsight, Legolas couldn't blame him. What person survived orcs, trolls and goblins with only two knives and a dozen daggers? Lady Gryffon, he realized, was either very frighteningly proficient with those meagre weapons or just plainly reckless. From what he noted when he had met her, it was probably a combination of both.

"Yes, I believe so, sir," he answered after he had assimilated that information. He said this calmly and softly, a sharp contrast to Lord Elrond who let out a distressed sound.

"That foolish child," Elrond muttered.

Legolas took that as his cue to ask, "My Lord?"

He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised that both leaders knew each other. They were close enough to be neighbors, with only less than a months' travel between them. In a way, they were rather similar as well, the very air in both places singing and thrumming with safety and protection.

"They're family holds an enchanted sword," Elrond explained. "And it falls on the heir to bear it. Gryffon has a son so..." he trailed off but Legolas understood what he meant even as he allowed his face to show his surprise, because truly, the only enchanted items hailed from the creation of Arda, from the First age when the Valar still had not settled in the Undying Lands because they were preoccupied in shaping the continent. The rings of power were special cases but they still came from the dawn of the Second age.

Gryffons bloodline must trace back to the beginning of the world and his respect for the woman, already high, rose up several more notches. Enchanted items, however enticing, always had a burden on them. For her family to have borne it and kept at it for centuries without fail was a great thing. It spoke of how seriously they took their duty.

"I do believe," Elrond continued. "That she does not find the other ordinary swords to be comfortable."

Legolas kept quiet, though he nodded because most of the swords he glimpsed in Haven city were clunky and not as delicately balanced as elvish swords. Gryffon, if she was used to wielding an enchanted sword, would not appreciate the heavy swords abundant around her.

"I will have to remedy that," Elrond concluded.

That was all Lord Elrond would say about the subject, aside from the curt, almost brusque statement of, "You will have to drop off a package for me," after Legolas responded that  _yes, he was going to pass by Haven on his way home_ , because Lady Gryffons offer was seriously tempting. If he hadn't been too preoccupied with mulling over it and marvelling over the fact that her family had an enchanted sword, he would have protested at playing messenger, nevermind that his own father did it, he was a king but Legolas just sighed and nodded because King Thranduil had been lamenting the distance that had erupted between the three greatest elvish settlements and favors did help lessen that distance.

The actual message from King Thranduil wasn't quite so personal for Lord Elrond so it was received more calmly. It was, however, just as puzzling and important.

"We have examined the Northern woods," Legolas said. "Ever since the rumors of something helping to keep away the darkness of the Necromancer in the ruins of Angmar."

Elrond nodded at that sense. Both of them knew enough about rumors that they always had a root of truth in them.

"King Thranduil wishes me to ask Gandalf the Grey or Saruman the White regarding that?" Elrond asked. "I believe Mithrandir was personally involved with that?"

Legolas let out a practiced look of incredulity that had hints of irritation in it. He knew, and saw it enough in the mirror that it wasn't an offensive expression. "He touched it briefly and battled the results only. But it wasn't him that settled the darkness away from our home," he said.

"How do you know?"

In answer, Legolas gave him a roll of parchment that had copies of the symbols from the strange stone they had found. Legolas knew without saying that it was keeping their home and their forest safe because the very air around the stone was cleaner. There was four more all told, making a pentagram of protection.

"You are right that the Mithrandir is not involved," Elrond remarked. "Because while he knows most of the languages, forgotten and remembered, this is not something he knows. What I do know, however, is that there is one person who has some of these characters written or stitched around her clothing."

At Legolas' perfectly tailored look of expectation, Elrond sighed. "It was nearly four decades ago," he warned. "And I only caught a brief glimpse of it. But when Lady Gryffon was ill, she was brought to Rivendell for help by her sister. Lady Enid had such symbols in her cloak. She only stayed for less than two nights so I cannot be certain."

Legolas had heard of a brief mention of Lady Enid from the cheerful helper that served him and his companions in the RisingEagle and he regretted not using that resource. He did not even see the rest of Lady Gryffons siblings, preoccupied as he was.

"That does compound my purpose," Legolas had to say, making Lord Elrond laugh.

Lord Elrond was always that way, an elf with a great memory and dry humour that rarely showed. Legolas always appreciated that and that association always felt like the cool springs of his home. Nobody was quite like Lord Elrond in the Northern Woods and before, when he was only a handful of decades old, he had felt a brief moment of envy for the twins and for Lady Arwen when he had wondered what it would be like to have Lord Elrond as a father. That moment had passed swiftly because he knew  _why_  his own father was cold and hard and extremely difficult to love.

Years of loneliness did that to anybody and the years were hard for King Thranduil, especially with the way he ascended the throne. It had been sudden and shocking, right after a war. He had gone to war with a thousand men, a prince serving under his father. He returned a king, an entire country looking at him for guidance with only a handful of men. He did not have the time to flounder and he learned to be strict.

Then Legolas' mother died and they were two.

Dreams were dreams and duties were duties. King Thranduil knew that most of all and made sure Legolas knew it too.

* * *

The end of the visit came as expected, too soon and not soon enough, because while Rivendell was wonderful and welcoming, it wasn't  _home._  However, it was still warmer than the coolness of the woods and their elves were different as well, less tense and more inclined to burst into song every other moment. None of the others at home ever did  _that_  so quickly and he knew it unnerved his companions even as it soothed him and made him laugh.

The long, cylindrical package was expected as well. Legloas had heard the smithies working overnight and the furnaces burning hot.

"Have a safe journey, Prince Legolas," Elrond said as they parted, and maybe Legolas didn't school his expression well enough or perhaps his actions spoke volumes in itself, but Lord Elrond's face was sympathetic and understanding of the conflict inside him.

And perhaps that's why he always volunteered whenever something was to be delivered to Rivendell.

* * *

Because she was waiting for it, Heather felt it first.

The wards tingled and strengthened, solidifying in a way that signified the entry of two fully-grown wizards. She had been poring over papers with Draco and she had jumped up and laughed.

"What in Merlin's name are you on about?" Draco had demanded crossly, startled. Then he felt it too and the tense lines of his shoulders relaxed.

"Do you think they're alright?" Heather queried as she hastily cleaned up the papers scattered around the living room.

"I would hope so," Draco said, sounding almost  _cheerful_. (He really must have been relieved.) "I haven't had a proper meal in months ever since that bloody elf went with them."

There was a  _clang!_  of pans that distracted both of them from putting the living room to rights. Curious, they peered into the kitchen and found a frenzied Kreacher cooking and cleaning at record speed. He looked manic and nearly hysterical.

"Kreacher?" Heather called out cautiously because really, she had never seen the elf act like that.

Kreacher stopped his movements, but it was no use because he was practically  _vibrating_  in place. "Master Draco has not eaten a proper meal in months!" he cried out, distressed. He was a second from bursting into tears.

Draco and Heather exchanged looks of alarm. Draco lost the staring contest and said, "Kreacher, I'm fine. Slow down or you'll hurt yourself. I promise that I'm fine."

The elf really did cry but at least he slowed down a little. It was still an above average speed that no human would have been able to replicate.

"Note that," Heather had to say with awe in her voice. "Nobody shall mention starvation within Kreachers hearing ever again. The next time might just break him and I am getting fond of that grumpy fellow."

"Noted," Draco said, along with another voice that made both of them turn around quickly.

"Hermione!" Heather exclaimed, enveloping Hermione in her arms tightly. Hermione just laughed and tugged at Draco to join their hugging party. Draco, in retaliation, squeezed back so hard that both girls could feel their back popping.

"You mastered silent apparition, then?" Draco queried as soon as he regained his personal space.

Hermione, thinner, browner and looking more rugged than she usually did, gave a little laugh. "Yes. I perfected it when I was ambushed by wolves. It seems that it was only the element of panic that I needed to finish the last step."

Heather groaned. "Honestly, the both of you! I haven't seen Mione in  _months_  and you're already talking research and technical stuff.  _Work comes later._ "

Draco shot her a sheepish look. "Ah, it was instinct. I missed having a sounding board for my ideas and when I saw her, it just happened."

Heather didn't say anything about that, because that was really as close as Draco would say that he missed Hermione. It was even a miracle that he would come close to saying it because years ago, any allusion to missing his pseudo-family was avoided like a plague.

Hermione knew it too because she laughed again and looked close to hugging Draco, even with how averse he was to being touched without his permission.

"Where's Luna?" Hermione said instead. It was a bit amusing because Draco actually sighed with relief at the change of subject. He'd probably felt how close Hermione was to going back to the hugging part of the reunion.

"I'm here," a soft voice said, sounding out of breath and immensely happy. "You look thinner, Hermione. That is the magical exhaustion speaking. I'll have to tell Kreacher to add a lot of meat, liver and beef to your diet."

While Hermione moved to embrace Luna, Draco remarked, "You ought to talk to the elf later. He's gone ballistic, cooking in the kitchen."

Hermione, ever the concerned one, chimed in, "I think he misses having a real kitchen to use. I don't think he's ever actually been in the wild."

Heather caught Draco's eye and quickly looked away again in an effort not to laugh.

"I suppose you're tired," Luna interrupted. "We can get down to the proper celebration tomorrow."

Heather and Draco agreed silently because magical exhaustion was a terrible thing to deal with, especially when travelling. At least Kreacher took care of her and Guiomer.

Speaking of...

"My son is with his wife?" Heather had to ask, even if logic dictated that he would be.

Hermione confirmed it with a nod. "He's been insanely focused on finishing the project early because he wanted to be here for Cailyn. Poor thing nearly fainted when I told him your message."

That got a round of laughter from all of them.

"On other news," Luna said, eyes sparkling with contained amusement. "My assistant and Draco's assistant have come to an agreement. A few more months and they shall tie the knot."

"You're not serious, are you?" Draco asked, having a good idea which of Luna's assistants that was meant. "They can't even stand each other."

Heather and Hermione, after the initial astonishment, accepted it more easily than Draco.

"So she was in denial!" Heather exclaimed. "I knew it! I've been having visions about the two of them but I couldn't even  _fathom_  how they got together."

Luna's tinkling laughter was all the answer needed.

"Matchmaking little minx," Draco said, shaking his head.

Luna preened like a complimented bird. Heather laughed at his resigned expression while the lines of tension in Hermione's face smoothed out. She was finally, with the only people that she would let her guard down with.

Kreacher did eventually allow them to enter the kitchen. The four of them usually ate in the small table found there when they were alone. A force of habit after a year spent eating in Grimmauld place's kitchen. It was initially a defence mechanism against the vastness of the house but the transfer to another world yielded a smaller table, where knees and dishes brushed against each other.

It was irritating but the knowledge that they were the only people they could trust made it an assurance. After long absences and death-defying adventures, it was a comfort.

"Potter did another stupid thing this week," Draco confided loudly to Hermione, making Heather sit up in alarm.

"Draco, really?" Heather sighed.

He wouldn't be swayed and Heather's adventure of Troll-climbing was shared to a steadily scowling Hermione. Unfortunately, it didn't yield the results he expected.

"You enforced the blade with magic?" she exclaimed instead of scolding Heather, to Draco's dismay. "I've been researching that. How did you do it?"

"Granger!" Draco barked.

Hermione gave a guilty start. "Ah, right. That was very reckless, feather! I know the future isn't stable and you get swayed by it," she said, a small blush on her face. "But that's no excuse to worry Draco and Luna!"

Draco looked to the ceiling in despair. "Really, the both of you! Hopeless."

Luna was leaning back in her chair, boneless with laughter.

"Hermione just misses her research laboratory," Heather soothed, voice choked with mirth. "Just give it time and she'll be back in proper form."

Guiomer's reunion with Cailyn while quieter, was no less happy. There was a lot of  _I'm sorry_  shared between both parties and relieved kisses. It could not get more intimate because Aedan, the moment he saw his father, clambered all over the man and she refused to let go clinging like a particularly stubborn monkey.

"You're early," Cailyn finally said, noticing for the first time that he was home four months earlier than scheduled.

"I cajoled and begged Aunt Enid to half the project with me," Guiomer explained, running his hands on her slightly rounded belly. "I'm lucky that she likes me."

Cailyn let out a breathy laugh. "You're her only nephew, so  _of course_  she's obliged to like you."

Aedan caught Guiomer's attention again and there was silence as the boy shared the fact that he could do magic. He was fairly controlled at it too, his toys floating in a decidedly orderly manner. Guiomer, after getting over his surprise, joined by weaving golden lights around the toys, making Aedan laugh.

"He's been wanting to show you that for ages," Cailyn murmured.

"Really?"

A nod. "There was a lot of mishaps too. Check his nursery, he changed the color of his walls to bright turquoise," she said softly.

Not for the first time, Guiomer wondered how things would have gone in his childhood if he was born with magic. Then he ruthlessly quashed that regret. For him, his life truly started when he opened his eyes and saw his soon-to-be mother's anxious face. The years before that no longer mattered. It was still important because the experience of complete unhappiness in those dark years helped define him, dwelling on it thought was no longer needed.

"It's good to have you home," Cailyn eventually murmured.

Guiomer's smile was radiant. "It's good to be home," he said.

* * *

It was an unofficial ritual for Heather and Guiomer to spend the whole day together after the long absence of either one. The next day was no different and Guiomer stuffed himself with food while Heather critically eyed him for any changes.

Guiomer was changed but in a way that took observation. He was twitchier and his hands leapt to his wand holster as much as it went to his knives and his sword. Guiomer's eyes were also quick to observe and assess everything.

They were the reactions of wizards, or people, who had gone through several trying times.

Heather had to remedy that before the bad habits set in. If he couldn't even unwind in his own childhood home, he'd end up as paranoid as Mad-eye Moody.

"You're as twitchy as a rabbit," she finally remarked.

His hackles raised in defence. "I'm not," he returned.

Right. Less mannerly too. She knew why though. Days alone would really wreck anyone's manners and it especially made your cursing skills widen. That had happened to her before her siblings set her to rights.

Heather arched an eyebrow at him. "What happened to your manners, my son? I know a bit more than you and the way I see it, if you cannot even trust in my magic that is keeping this house safe, then you cannot trust the city, which is protected with the magic of five wizards, to keep you safe."

Guiomer looked like he wanted to argue and Heather allowed steel to enter her eyes. Anybody who had trained under her in swordsmanship would recognize it and Guiomer was not different. Visibly cowed, he said, "I'm sorry, Mater. I am...unused to being in a civilized area after these past four months."

"Good. You should be," she said, making him blink in surprise. "Now, you will learn how to turn off those instincts once you are these sort of areas. I expect you to grasp it in a week."

"Mater!" he protested. "That's too short a time!"

Heather shot him a look of disbelief. "You have to keep in mind your nearly three year old son and your pregnant wife. And you seriously wish to keep those instincts active in their vicinity?" she asked. There were no arguments or counter-arguments on his side, she continued, saying, "And your manners, Guiomer! I know that being in the wild, nobody would mind or something. But keep in mind the example you're setting on my impressionable grandson."

Guiomer raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Thank you, Mater. I did not even notice. I take it that the same thing happened to you when you wandered as well?"

Heather nodded in approval. "Of course. My siblings set me to rights after I nearly stabbed poor moonbeam for stealing a hug. It took me months of practice, which you don't have."

The added motivation of Aedan and Cailyn would probably make him learn it faster. Both of them knew that.

"Tell me everything," she demanded after checking that his plate was empty.

Guiomer smiled as he shared to her the events of the past four months, his features relaxing just a little. Midway through his narration, he unbuckled his swordbelt under his mothers approving eyes and set aside his weapons.

He was learning. Slowly but surely he was learning and Heather allowed herself a small, cat-like smile.

* * *

Faramir's lessons were getting harder, but he didn't know that his tutors had run out of things to teach him. He even managed to disarm Lady Gryffon though granted, she was only using one hand to give him an advantage.

Lady Enid absorbed the mornings sessions after that and Lord Hodur's schedule cleared enough to resume their afternoon lessons. Faramir enjoyed it immensely and he made no effort to conceal how much he missed his old schedule.

But it didn't change the fact that Faramir was a fast learner and things that ordinary people would learn in six years, he learned in half the time.

Lady Eilys, after realizing that, offered to take on Lord Faramir every other week or so. Lady Gryffon nodded and approved because she remembered that there were other things that Lady Eilys knew aside from healing and that she was also a pureblood.

But things, no matter how hectic, eventually settled down and Faramir was present and very  _very_  awed at being able to witness the establishment of the country Saldia, with the capital city of Haven. There were suddenly numerous treaties to sign and a large number of agreements to hammer out. The entire thing just made him value Gondor all the more.

Saldia was a country located in the plains and was difficult enough to establish. Gondor was part of the mountainous and hilly areas. The force of will of his ancestors must have been immense to establish a country there.

"Manwe," Faramir whispered in prayer. "I thank you for enlightening my father to send me to this blessed country."

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**A light shining in the darkness**

Lady Galadriel spent most of her time watching over all of Arda with her senses and it made her slightly difficult to talk to. Lord Celeborn knew that and had adjusted to it accordingly centuries ago. Her sudden delighted joy, however, was shocking given that the elves were intimately connected with nature and could feel the cold and the darkness seeping through their very bones.

"Galadriel?" he asked softly in case it would disturb whatever she was watching.

Her smile was as radiant as the sunlight. "They were smaller years ago," she whispered to Celeborn, eyes alight with unshed tears. "But no less beautiful. I didn't take much note of that because even the Dunedain give off such light. And it has grown! Oh, Celeborn, something is shining a light in Arda. Such a bright light, almost as bright as Estel. "

Hope flitted through his heart. Perhaps they could survive the coming dark age? Any elf could feel it coming, with the darkness creeping into the land.

"Then I pray that they shall continue shining," he murmured. He could finally understand why Galadriel had turned cheerful.


	30. Interlude: Among other fellows

Elrohir knew his brother very intimately and understood him in a way that can only come from being with a person for thousands of years. It was an innate knowledge and a well known fact: If you had Elladan, Elrohir wasn't far.

The only thing that confused Elrohir, the only thing that made him so incredibly bewildered, was Elladan's fascination for the human, Lady Enid of Saldia, formerly called Haven.

Not that Lady Enid and the rest of her family  _felt_ like humans. Being an elf made him very sensitive to the thrumming of everything living and while the lady felt like a human, there was an echo of something decidedly  _not_  in her blood.

But that was beside the point. The point was, Elrohir had never seen his brother focus all of his attention into one person with such intensity. It was rather unnerving that he couldn't understand  _why._

Elladan knew what he felt, of course. He didn't have to voice it out loud. Matters of incomprehension aside, they still had dozens of other things wherein they understood each other perfectly. This was one of those.

"You are confused," Elladan finally said, voicing the perplexing feelings in him.

"Yes," he responded because lying about it was beyond him. He  _wanted_ to understand and lying would be detrimental to it.

Elladan nodded. "You will have to write to Ada. But I will explain it as best as I can." Here, he paused to gather his thoughts and Elrohir was fleetingly thankful that patience was genetic.

"It was like looking in the Mirror of the Wishing Stars," Elladan said slowly, his voice soft. "Everything was dull and colorless and even with how we elves see the very essence of the world, it just seemed mundane and ordinary."

Elorhir interrupted, recognizing the direction it was going. "And then you see into the Mirror and the world blazed into color," he said.

Elladan laughed because that was a direct quote from the dwarf that had glimpsed into the Mirror.

"Not quite," Elladan said, chuckling with mirth. "But the idea is there. Brother, she just lives so  _differently!_ " The last was said with raw feeling. "All these years, ever since Nana was driven mad by the orcs, my mind – our mind has been consumed by the feeling of bitterness and vengeance. And then she took one dance with me and for a moment – just for that one moment, my mind cleared of hatred and bitterness and I could  _hear_  the music playing to the very bare bones of my being. And…it was like  _breathing_  for the  _first time._ "

Elves were eloquent and very good with poetry. But Elladan wasn't the sort to do that. Elrohir could feel his eyes going so wide that they hurt. He understood a bit more now, yet he was left with more questions. Perhaps he was going to take Elladan's advice and write to Ada after all.

"Do you wish to join her in marriage?" He finally managed.

His brother merely raised an eyebrow because really, the answer was  _there._  After a moment, they eventually laughed.

"A change of the question, then," Elrohir said with a smile. " _When_ are you going to join with her in marriage?"

Here, Elladans cheeks tinged with the pink of embarrassment. "Ah! Lord Hodur sent me a letter after several weeks of correspondence with Lady Enid. He said that I was starting the custom of their family, which unexpectedly makes things more difficult for myself. It is a process, you see. First is the courtship letters, then the gifts and then the settling of the contract. The last would be the dance, which would really end everything. I had not known I was doing the courtship letters until he told me that since I had already started it, I might as well finish it."

Elrohir could have kept away his laughter if Elladan had not pouted. But he did and Elrohir had to ask in-between chuckles, "And which part of the process are you in?"

The pout evolved into a scowl. "Another two months of gift giving," he said.

Elrohir laughed again. There was a definite whine in Elladans voice. "Do not be quite so hasty, brother," he said when his mirth subsided. "I'm sure this process has a reason."

"I didn't mean to start it in the first place," was the rejoinder that had Elrohir letting out another peal of laughter.

* * *

Theoden was a born and bred King of Rohan and as such, acted accordingly. In that capacity, he also subconsciously liked to ensure the safety of his House and in conjunction, his Heir.

It only took one visit from the well-rumored and extremely charming Lady of Haven, now Saldia, and then his world has twisted into different proportions. He had known that the Dunlendings were enemies but they were inconsequential in the face of orcs and trolls, like mere flies among a herd of cows. He didn't even think about befriending them.

Theoden still remembered how her green eyes had flashed as she said, " _A few months ago, I touched Prince Theodred's hand and I saw him die."_  It was one of the most frightening statements he had ever had the misfortune to hear. It had done wonders in changing his mind about the Dunlendings and how to go about befriending them.

Of course, it had helped that he received weekly messages from his son regarding the integrity of character of the Leaders of Saldia. The mention of Lord Hodur surprised him. He hadn't known that he blind potions brewer that had cured his sires eyesight was  _that_  Hodur and had survived a journey to the north all by himself.

From those facts, it was a simple thing to send one of his scouts to the Dunlendings with a request for a meeting. There had been an uproar amongst his captains and things had been dicey and tense while negotiations were underway. The Dunlendings had probably sensed the tensions and had gone without their armor…Well, as much armor as the reports stated. Nobody alive could really give an accurate report on the appearances of the Wild men but the reports of dark hair, steel and a lot of fur had always been consistent.

But it paid off.

The outer-lying villages, which were always subject to attacks near winter, were left alone and the efforts and money that would have gone to repair the effects of an attack weren't spent. Theoden had to look in astonishment at the  _surplus_  he had seen in the reports from the treasurer. He hadn't even known that he was unconsciously  _setting aside_  funds for the Dunlendings's attacks.

And his captains wondered  _why_  he was smiling more often these days!

The decision to send his heir to Saldia for his education may have been on a whim once he'd heard about the education and knowledge it preached, but he'd never regretted in even once. Theoden's own education had mainly taken place in Gondor beside his sister but the recent gulf in the relations between Rohan and Gondor made him hesitant to send Theodred there. The appearance of Haven was timely and it almost made him think that the Valar had something to do with it.

Prince Theodred didn't waste his education either and had gutted out and revised their entire military system and made it even more efficient. There were complaints of course because, heir or not, Theodred was still younger than all the captains. Then there were lesser injuries and casualties were nearing zero, all complaints dried up.

Theoden thanked the Valar for Lady Gryffons wisdom in letting someone with a tactical mind teach his son.

(In Saldia, Heather and Draco both sneezed simultaneously.)

Even Eowyn was different. There was a marked difference in the way she held herself. Before Saldia, she had pestered Theoden to be taught the sword and to be allowed to join the men in the border patrols. Sending her to Saldia had been for his peace of mind and for the general peace of his household – the tantrum she would throw if left behind would have been legendary – and he had been half-convinced that she would return even worse. Instead, she had returned sharper and more feminine. The pleas for joining border patrol had stopped as well and she had smiled sweetly at him instead and asked to wander the villages that dotted Rohan. Warily, he had agreed, not knowing what he was agreeing to.

It only took three weeks for him to realize that Eomer's groans and complaints had a reason. The entire country had somehow found itself an Internal Peace Enforcer and she was also teaching the women and children how not to be bullied.

There went the peace of his country after the men complained and he had to make it official somehow, because nearly all of Eowyn's recruits were women. (And happy women meant a happy country.)

Lady Gryffons recent letter just cemented the fact that constant and continuous association with her would head to insanely shocking (he really had not expected that of Eowyn) and migraine inducing events.

The letter said:

_Greetings, King Theoden:_

_Old friend, I understand that I have been remiss in my missives and Prince Theodred had assured me that he has told you. But recent reports from my Brotherhood has told me that you remain ignorant of everything that your heir has done._

_I will be blunt: He has asked me to station additional men from the organization because of the increased efficiency of the orc and troll attacks._

_Hodur has pointed out to me that I might as well ask you now that it has happened._

_Would it be very troublesome for you if I were to erect a permanent place there for my Brotherhood and for Eilys's Order? You will, of course, have to provide them with food and the basic essentials but that is a small thing for the service they will render your country. Your country will become a stopping point, right after Saldia and that will increase the traffic for your inns as well._

_Notify me of your choice soon, my friend._

_Gryffon of Saldia, formerly named Haven._

He had to reread it several times before Theoden gestured a servant to call for his son.

Really, the nerve of the boy!

* * *

Phobos remembered a time when he cared and allowed it to show.

Before Haven – Saldia, the children were cruel and the adults even more so. Compassion and mercy was a weakness and everyone around him and his twin had scented that weakness like sharks with blood in the water. So he did the only thing he could, he stopped caring and everything became  _numb_. Deimos did the opposite and he had  _burned_  with his rage and his anger at everything. A small, really tiny part of them had never stopped caring. Both of them just learned to hide it better.

Sneaking into a supply caravan was one of Deimos's better ideas – though he certainly wasn't telling his brother that. They'd wound up in a town, still incomplete and filled with haphazard buildings but the people had been smiling and laughing. It was such an unnerving sight that both of them froze and felt no small bit of shock.

They'd been determined to start fresh and place everything behind them. However, years of habit were hard to undo and it really was so difficult to feel anything when you haven't cared for  _years._  Still, everything had worked out and the magic of the town wound up thawing Phobos's ice and chilling Deimos's fire until Phobos was merely apathetic instead of numb and Deimos became sarcastic instead of a sociopath.

Becoming Lady Eilys's apprentice, and later, her assistant, was blamed entirely on Deimos. Between the both of them, the one with the unhealthy curiosity had always been Deimos and it had gotten them into worse trouble than anyone could imagine.

The hospital had been one of the main buildings and Lady Eilys had been so happy to see it finished that she'd invited everyone to see it. There were plenty of impromptu tours after that and Deimos had been  _curious_  and had dragged Phobos. They wound up separated from the rest of the group and then wandered into a roped off corridor. Deimos's inherent nature kicked in again and both of them checked out  _why_  it was roped off.

The rest, they would say, is history.

Phobos begged to differ. It wasn't exactly history in his mind yet because the torturous training Lady Eilys had put him and his brother through wouldn't allow itself to become musty and dusty and forgotten. Every time he stitched a person up, he remembered three hellish days of no sleep, hemming all the healer robes in the hospital. Every time he assigned a proper dose for a potion, he remembered holding a wooden practice sword and facing Lady Eilys, holding a sword of her own, who whacked him every time he got it wrong. Of course, he was allowed to block, but the woman was  _fast_. Knowing who trained her, it was no surprise.

But it was extremely difficult to label the years he spent as an apprentice as hell. There were the times when Lady Eilys would suddenly come up to both of them, with absolutely no concept for personal space, grab them and then take them to whatever had caught her interest. Whatever it would that made her interested, however, were potentially dangerous or extremely embarrassing, or even worse, really  _strange_. All of it had the similarity being that they were all satisfying to witness, with a hidden lesson in each.

Camping, for example, had the potential to be dangerous and extremely embarrassing for both brothers. But nightfall came and Lady Eilys taught both of them to map the stars and to navigate by it if they were ever lost. The embarrassing still happened the following morning when Deimos cooked and the result was a sludge of goop that Phobos would swear he saw  _move_.

When the apprenticeship had ended and both of them had been free to go their own way, it had taken no difficulty to stick with Lady Eilys and become her assistant. The change from apprentice to assistant was a different kind of hell though.

It was widely rumored that Lady Eilys was terrible with management and it even generated much laughter when Lord Hodur incredulously wondered out loud how she managed to train two able apprentices. To have it confirmed was amusing...and not so amusing once Phobos realized what that entailed for her self-appointed assistants.

He learned more about Saldia's management and how it ran more than he liked.

He didn't resent her though. Lady Eilys radiated an adorable sort of helplessness once faced with paperwork. She was like Lady Gryffon in that aspect in that she procrastinated as much as possible except that Lady Gryffon, once she started something, would never stop until it was finished. Lady Eilys would flit around her work station like a butterfly, leaving half-finished paperwork behind.

Deimos once wondered how she was related to the other Founders since she was so different. Phobos, who was usually assigned to join her in her rounds in the hospital, merely raised an eyebrow and switched places with his brother. He witnessed Lady Eilys smiling down an extremely stubborn patient. Inexplicably, the man cowered as though faced with Mandos, the god of the dead.

"Please drink you potion," Lady Eilys had said softly while smiling like a cat. "I hear that my healers are complaining about you. But do remember, captain. As long as you are here, they are  _responsible_  for your  _life._ "

The captain gobbled down his potion like he was held at sword-point. Deimos understood how she was related to the Founders and Phobos had laughed.

Each of the Founders radiated an air that made them hard to ignore. When they were together they  _shone_. Lady Gryffon shone especially brighter than the rest. Initially, it had made him angry on his teachers behalf since she had the tendency to fade into the background in the face of her siblings. And then he realized that the four of them operated smoothly, and in a way that  _needed_  all four of them. The absence of one would render their operations less efficient.

Take the recent debate that he had the good fortune to witness all by himself.

"How in magic's name shall we deal with this?" Lord Hodur had demanded. "Four months of travel is not a good distance for a vassal state."

"Better transportation," Lady Gryffon said immediately. "That's what I thought when I first heard of it."

Lady Enid had immediately gone into tangents and calculations. His teacher had only furrowed her brow and borrowed a map.

"We can have a boat," Lady Eilys spoke up, making all of them fall quiet.

"Nobody knows how to build a proper ship," Lady Enid interjected. "Only the elves do and the Corsairs of Umbar, but those lot are pirates."

Uncharacteristically, Lady Eilys rolled her eyes. "You really did forget, Enid. My branch of the family used to be seafarers before we settled. There's probably a manual on ships somewhere in my mind."

There was an astonished silence and it was broken by Lady Gryffon laughing. "That's brilliant!" she cried. "So I'll leave that to you and Hodur."

While Lord Hodur had spluttered and complained, Lady Gryffon turned and winked at him. Phobos barely restrained himself from groaning because really, that meant a dozen more sleepless nights.

And then Lady Eilys turned to him that night as they were settling the night shift in the Hospital. "Phobos," she'd said with lightly concealed panic. "Help me with the paperwork for the new Shipyard."

Sometimes, he wondered why he stayed with his teacher, especially since his brother kept getting distracted by Lord Hodur's assistant. Then he remembered his old life of painful loneliness and general numbness. Compared to Lady Eilys's cracking a bad joke just to infuriate him, that life was monotonous and completely depressing.

He wouldn't change it for anything in Arda.

* * *

"I sometimes miss those days when you wouldn't dream of talking back," Lord Hodur remarked dryly.

Meiran scowled, knowing what he meant.

She classified her life as before Saldia and during Saldia. Before Saldia involved her thirteen siblings and a lot of remarks that were aimed to bring down her self-esteem just because she had been born a girl. During Saldia involved a lot of yelling and insults from an irate Lord Hodur, which would result in Meiran breaking down into tears a lot. Then Lord Guiomer had commented on her lack of backbone and she'd found the hidden steel in her that could fight back and draw blood with just her words.

Lord Hodur, after his initial surprise when she first snarled back, had looked pleased. That had been strange. Then again, anything that dealt with the Founders was strange. Especially Lord Hodur.

Take, for example, her second month into the apprenticeship. Meiran had been as startled as anything when he had suddenly whipped off his blindfolf to stare at the potion ingredient that had been bothering him. She had been shocked into silence upon finding out that her teacher wasn't really blind, nevermind that his eyes glittered and shone like starlight.

Of course, he didn't react like a normal person at all when he realized she was sitting by his fireplace. He had simply looked at her - and by the Valar being on the recieving end of such a stare was like having your soul removed and examined by a Master Healer - and raised an eyebrow. "You have anything to say, silly apprentice?" he drawled.

Her temper, which always simmered in his presence, boiled over. "I am not silly!" she'd snapped. "And since how long have you been able to see?"

"Since I was born," he'd answered dryly. "The eyes are new, though. An accident. Do we continue discussing this or shall I keep on with the inventory?"

He was touchy about it, she had realized and never brought it up again. The one thing she had understood about her mercurial and temperamental teacher was that he was practical about everything and incredibly vain about his looks. That he had to cover his brilliant eyes for the sake of practicality - because it would be extremely difficult to talk to people when they are busy staring at your eyes - must have rankled at him.

The training he put her through, though, would surely have made Sauron and Morgoth proud.

She'd had to identify potion ingredients blindfolded and by scent, brew all sorts of potions while sleep deprived and under pressure. That hardship, coupled with Lord Hodur's impressive temper, would have been enough to make any sane person cry. Meiran wondered what that said about her sanity seeing as she'd stayed with him for more than ten years. Probably nothing good.

Everything wasn't about training though, or Meiran would have run for the Gap of Rohan ages ago. In between brewing potions, Lord Hodur would sometimes tell stories that had hidden meanings. Finding out what it meant - what it was really about - was her unofficial assignment. She'd only ever disregarded that once and the disappointment that had flickered all over his features, however briefly, had made her determined not to let him feel that disappointment ever again.

Meiran had gradually realized, as the story telling grew more frequent, that the stories were all about the lives of the founders before they created Saldia. It was a humbling and inspiring thing to understand because with how much respect and influence the founders had, it was easy to forget that they were human as well, no matter how young they all looked. For the Saldians, the founders had been immortalized. Meiran was no exception to that and hearing the stories allowed her to treat her teacher normally. The adjustment wasn't that difficult for her since his temper ensured that.

Lately, however, her teacher had started to remove his blindfold when he was alone, or just in her presence and his startling eyes were always shadowed, dark circles underneath them emphasizing that he was getting lesser sleep than usual. To punctuate that, his cluttered desk was actually clean and free of paperwork, and all his research journals were filled with scribbles and formulae. (He'd actually had to make new ones since he'd run out of them.)

All of it pointed to the fact that somehow, Lord Hodur was worried about something. This was further confirmed by Lady Gryffon having the same haunted air and how battered the training posts were with the number of times she had thrown daggers at them.

Which, somehow, led to Faramir becoming her student. And that made absolutely no  _sense_  since her teacher had more free time with the completion of all his paperwork. It didn't help matters when Deimos found out and absolutely refused to leave her alone with her student. For lessons or anything else.

And that was how Lord Faramir ended up learning potions brewing and healing at the same time.

Meiran loved her master, she truly did. But sometimes, she wished he would actually order her to do something instead of floundering around about it for  _ages_. The delay in Faramirs permanent placement had somehow caused Lord Hodur to come down with a cold when he'd tried to teach Faramir and had fallen asleep in the middle of a lecture because of his exhaustion and terrible sleeping habits. She'd had to  _wrestle_  the responsibility of Faramir's education from him.

Honestly, that stubborn man! And people wondered  _why_  she never left after her apprenticeship? Her poor master wouldn't survive it if she did.

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

Scene 1

**How Cailyn found out that Lord Guiomer's smile influenced the sun  
(And how Guiomer was fascinated by the combination of chocolate and red hair)**

When she'd first met Guiomer, he had been in such a morose mood that it had shocked Cailyn.

Cailyn, like many before her, heard about the peace and prosperity that Haven - before being renamed Saldia, had. The ones who'd spread the rumors had been the Order of Healing, which was being headed by Lady Eilys of Saldia. It was inevitable for the rumors not to talk about Lady Eilys, her family and the city in general. Lord Guiomer, of course, featured in the stories a lot, given that he was Lady Eilys's favorite and only nephew.

They called him Guiomer the Fortuitous. Among the founders, there was another man and the people called him Hodur the Untouchable. Back then, in such a small city, people viewed both of them as the balance on the scales. People had only ever seen the two of them serious at the same time and that was when Lady Gryffon fell ill for two weeks.

Cailyn had not grown up in Haven, but she had heard stories about it from wandering merchants, passing mercenaries and returning townspeople, who had heard about the susurrus of peace and gone to confirm it. Overnight, people had packed their bags and left. Cailyn's brother, being even more stubborn than Caradhras himself, had refused to leave the inn he had inherited from their parents. Cailyn, however, had made up her mind and knew she wanted to leave with the rest of the people.

It had taken a bit of stealing, a lot of planning and then packing up all her belongings in secret. Because she wasn't an ungrateful brat, she had waited until business picked up again after the town almost became a ghost town. Then her brother had finally found a wife and barely noticed she existed aside from the occasional tip he gave her for wiping the tables.

Ordinary people would have been upset. Cailyn had planned it and had actually laughed as she finally allowed herself to leave. She knew it probably was a bit mean to do so without actually  _telling_  him, but Cailyn sent a small portion of her earnings from the Bakeshop (five gold pennies every month) to him once she'd established it anyway.

Starting the Bakeshop had not been part of any planning though.

She'd arrived in Saldia, almost lost at how  _large_  everything was and how busy people were. An orphan had found her and taught her the mechanics of how things worked. Before she could protest, her new friends had dragged her to Basic Education class, which had been personally taught by Lady Enid back then.

It was a brilliant and beautiful thing to be literate and for Cailyn, it was almost like having the whole world open up to her. To further cement it, Lady Enid caught her in the Library, nearly buried under all the books she was reading. All of them tended to mention the chopping and slicing and Lady Enid certainly noticed that.

Lady Enid had carefully cross-examined her if she was  _sure_  that she wanted cooking and not potion brewing - because somehow, people confused the two - and gave her a book that she still kept carefully wrapped in black cloth. It was called, " _One thousand things to try in your kitchen."_  Half the things mentioned were strange and undecipherable. The other half started the groundwork for the Bakeshop.

She'd started young and it drew in people so by the time she had reached a respectable age to marry, Cailyn was too busy and too happy to even think about it.

And then Lord Guiomer wandered in during a slowday, looking so bleak and morose that she wondered what had made Guiomer the Fortuitous, the ever-cheerful one, sad. Perhaps an invasion?

"Chocolate Mountain Cake," she had said then, surprising him as she placed the dish in front of him.

"Your pardon, my lady?" he asked after he'd recovered.

"That's the name," Cailyn clarified. "Though the wait-staff like to call it Little Erebor."

Lord Guiomer let out a bark of startled laughter. "That's ridiculous! It looks nothing like the Lonely Mountain," he said. He reached to his belt to pay for it and Cailyn stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"It's on the house," she said. He protested and Cailyn shook her head firmly. "You look like you need it, my lord," she insisted and she wondered where she was getting all her courage to actually contradict and  _touch_  Lord Guiomer.

And then he'd smiled and Cailyn stopped wondering. Lord Guiomer really looked better with a smile on his face. He seemed to influence the sun as well since she'd returned to the kitchen flushed and fanning herself.

**(LOL. She is soo in denial.)**

* * *

Scene 2:

**Pamphlet for Career Day:  
Why you should become a member of the Brotherhood!**

**Benefits:**

[1] Flexible work time

[2] A life of adventure and travel

[3] A work with the Dunedain

[4] Meeting a lot of new faces

[5] The experience of sword fighting without the pressures of war

**Details:**

The Brotherhood is an organization that doesn't only belong in Saldia, we belong to Arda and to the people. We serve to exterminate the darkness that Morgoth and Sauron have left in our world. We aim to create a clean and free world.

As of the moment, there are a thousand of us that seek to remove the darkness and corruption, and we are spread as far as the Northern Woods and Rohan.

If you wish to help see the last of orcs and trolls, we are interested in you.

Note: We accept donations for the continuous operation of our organization.


	31. The Encroaching Darkness

Guiomer stared at the spectacle that was his mother going through several sword routines.

It wasn't that Heather didn't practice with a sword but she tended to borrow the clunky practice swords provided in the Training courts. Her style, which embodied fluidity and speed, didn't suit well with those swords. Something always felt off, somehow.

The new sword, delivered by Prince Legolas, was thin and light. Heather wielded it like an extension of her arm. Guiomer had only seen such unity when his mother borrowed the sword of Gryffindor from him.

"She looks splendid," Prince Legolas murmured. "Her form is perfect and fast."

Guiomer stifled a smile but it could still be heard in his voice as he said, "Don't say that quite so loudly. Mater could get annoyed. She's usually better than this given that she hasn't practiced those stances in almost a year."

Legolas shot him a perfectly tailored look of incredulity – and really, he finally understood why his mother found his facial expressions unnerving. "How would she look like in her greatest condition?" he finally asked.

He wasn't bragging. Guiomer, as a child, had seen Heather practice and it had inspired him to do right by the Sword he had inherited.

"If she was serious, all you would see is a blur of silver," he said.

Prince Legolas clearly did not believe him. Guiomer did not mind. Not many people could imagine that Heather could move even faster. What they were currently seeing was her warm ups.

"You have my gratitude, though," he continued softly but that didn't matter because of the elvish thing and their incredibly good hearing. "Mater has been receiving more injuries than usual because she misses having her own sword. So I thank you."

The blush that went on Legolas's face was the most real facial expression Guiomer had ever seen on the prince's face. So far. And not the last, if Guiomer could help it. He had heard about his mothers planned ' _humanizing'_ project for Prince Legolas, or as Aunt Enid had said, "Turning-an-elf-into-a-socially-balanced-individual" project.

Merlins arse, what a mouthful!

And to think, his mother wanted to juggle  _that_  along with the country's expansion and its establishment? She was either crazy or just really efficient. But she wouldn't do it alone, not if he could help it. Especially since she was busy exchanging owls with Aragorn with the completion of the safehouse project and sending messages back and forth with King Theoden with regards to the establishment of the branch of the Brotherhood.

He didn't know how she did it. The only thing he knew was that she acted like she was on a pepper-up high half the time when he  _knew_  that Uncle Hodur didn't let her touch potions unsupervised.

"It was nothing, Lord Guiomer," Legolas said, bringing him out of his musings. The elf still had that light pink dusting his cheeks, making him look adorable. "Elrond Half-elven was merely concerned and I was the convenient messenger."

Guiomer gave him the look that deserved because really, from what Guiomer learned from Aunt Enid, elves were as contrary as cats when the mood struck them and nobody could have convinced Legolas to deliver the new sword (named 'Promise' in English) if he didn't want to.

The new sword was light, elegant and, like all other elvish-made swords, thin and extremely durable. Between Promise and Gryffindors sword, it was a competition on who was sharper. Both of them didn't need to be cleaned either.

Sadly, it wasn't goblin-forged metal that only accepted that which made it stronger.

That small deficiency was swiftly ignored by Heather who, upon opening the long parcel, had jumped up and embraced the daylights out of Legolas. Luckily Guiomer, who had stayed behind due to his curiosity over the parcels contents, was quick to grab the sword in-between them before it impaled either of them.

However awkward the atmosphere had gotten afterwards was completely worth seeing Legolas's face turn that red. Guiomer knew his mother agreed with that point.

"I know Mater invited you, but she is rather busy," he continued before Legolas could get too embarrassed. "So I suppose you will have to stay with me. Saldia is rather large too so the tour might take weeks."

The elf's natural curiosity took over. "Are you not busy as well, Lord Guiomer?" he asked.

Guiomer managed to suppress his wince in time because the elf really hit the nail on the head. He supposed that the only reason his mother could do as many things as she did was because of the growing pile of paperwork on  _his_ desk.

"I could shuffle it to the afternoon so I could be with you in the mornings," he said.

Legolas gave a bow (and it truly was so elegant that Guiomer wondered how he did it.) and a child detached itself from the shadows to escort him back to his rooms.

In an absolute absence of professionalism, the child asked the elf a hundred questions without pausing. The baffled look on his face was amusing. It was funny how much at a loss he was when faced with the orphans total and complete fascination.

Behind him, he could hear a sword being sheathed. There was light footsteps on the cobbled stones and then his mother's voice said, "It's a good thing he accepted and I am not thinking about the sword he gave me. That one needs to loosen up. He's a hundred years old and he doesn't know how to interact with people outside of a formal setting."

Guiomer turned to look at her, assessing her condition after those set of stances she practiced. Mentally, he noted that she needed a good run to return her stamina to acceptable levels, given that she was hunched over her sheathed sword and using it as a crutch. Covering up for the absence of two people for four months had taken a toll on his mother. Given the number of paperwork Saldia naturally generated and the stupendous amount of side-projects she had, his mother couldn't have had time to go to the Training courts at all.

"I agree," he said, continuing the conversation even as he handed her a towel and a cup of water. "However, you aren't supposed to stop that quickly. Go back in there and do your stretches, Mater."

Heather made a face but obligingly handed over the sword she held. In a whirl of color, she bent and stretched and cooled down from the strenuous exercise.

* * *

For Cailyn's weekly pre-natal check-up, she was led by an exhausted Deimos, who was followed by two assistants that wrote down everything he said. It was the sort of atmosphere that would have cowed Cailyn but ever since she was nearing the end of her second trimester, she'd found herself assaulted by strange moods. Sudden bouts of bravery and courage mostly overtook her, and at especially odd times.

"She's a bit serious about this one," Deimos said, stopping the constant stream of instructions he was telling his personal assistants. "I haven't seen my brother since this annoying Shipyard project started."

To punctuate that statement, said with the most angry tone she had ever heard him use, a door was opened and Cailyn had to use sheer will power in order not to gape.

Lady Eilys was sprawled on the floor, parchment covered every available space. Her dress was bunched up at her knees and looking so wrinkled it wasn't even fashionable. An ink bottle hovered by her wrist that occasionally shook itself. That was probably the cause of the ink stains that covered Lady Eilys's hair and fingers. There was even ink on the floor and some splattered on the floors.

It looked like a typhoon had blown in.

The only place that looked even remotely organized was where Phobos was standing in front of a chalkboard.

In contrast to Lady Eilys, who looked like she had war with the ink bottle and lost, Phobos looked like he'd tangled in a barrel of flour. The front of his jacket was liberally covered with white, as was his hair.

The cause of it became evident when, with a nose of frustration, Phobos ran a chalk-covered hand through his hair.

"Er-hem," Deimos said, clearing his throat and grabbing both their attention. His assistants wisely backed away several steps.

Lady Eilys surfaced like a drowned cat, blinking away her concentration, the sharpness of her focus, away until all that was left was her slightly dreamy gaze that landed on Cailyn. She immediately brightened up, launching herself across the space between them in her haste, parchment going every which way.

No, she wasn't angry at being interrupted, but Phobos was and he lashed out at his brother angrily.

"I'm trying to find a mistake in my calculations here. Stop interrupting me, it's not like you can do this!" Phobos growled.

Deimos raised both hands placatingly. "Now, now. It's not good for your health to get that angry. Go back to being my cold-fish of a brother that didn't care."

Phobos exploded and Deimos was drawn into an argument that was probably-? Probably against his will.

It was creepy and almost like both brothers had switched personalities.

"Aunt Eilys," Cailyn said hesitantly. "Shouldn't we stop them?"

Lady Eilys gave a small smile, even as her ink-stained hands patted at Cailyns stomach. Thankfully, the ink was long dried or it would have gone into Cailyn's dress too.

"It's their way of coping, my dear. Phobos is just a bit tired and Deimos misses his brother."

That seemed a little off, somehow and Cailyn wondered at the logic that allowed the twins to look murderously at each other.

Cailyn didn't have long to wonder though because she was led to a spare room and Lady Eilys's wand was in her hand and was prodding at Cailyn's stomach gently. The parchment that was by the table slowly filled itself with symbols and words.

After a moment, when the yelling in the corridors from the twins's argument went louder, Lady Eilys smiled. "You and your baby seem to be in good health, Cailyn. You just lack certain vitamins. More milk and spend more time in the sun and it shouldn't be a problem."

There was the sound of something breaking even as Lady Eilys gave her a new dietary list. The serene smile on the lady's face suddenly gained a sharp edge to it.

"That's all, my dear. Now, excuse me for a moment. My dear assistants are misbehaving," she said with the same feral smile.

Cailyn held the parchment loosely before coming to her senses and hurrying after her. She didn't want to miss it because Lady Eilys very rarely lost her temper. Cailyn couldn't even recall a time when the sweet-tempered Master Healer yelled.

"Now boys," her voice rang out as Cailyn rounded the corridor. None of the other assistants were in sight and the twins stood as far away from each other as possible. There was a broken vase and a broken window.

And Lady Eilys was  _still smiling._

"You've grown up and are as far from the angry children I taught," Lady Eilys was saying. "If you wanted to spar, I could have booked you to train with my sister in the mornings. You know she enjoys having company in her stretches."

The simultaneously went white with horror and Cailyn couldn't help but think that it was a bit mean. Lady Gryffon was  _insane_  with her trainings. That was the reason her Brotherhood only had a forty-five percent passing rate. Those that failed told horror stories of flying knives, buckets of cold water and being chased by  _very hungry_  wolves while lathered with deer meat.

"So have you worked out your differences?" Lady Eilys continued. "I don't like working with both of you when you're both in a temper."

The twins hastily nodded, though their smiles looked constipated. They evidently haven't forgiven each other yet but only made a quick agreement to escape punishment.

Cailyn left quickly, an amused smirk on her face. Meiran often complained to Felicia and Cailyn about the twins. To seem them so thoroughly cowed by a smiling Lady Eilys was something priceless.

Midway towards the bakeshop, Aedan crashed into her legs and she had to pick him up because he looked inches from falling asleep.

"Pater and the important elf went to eat in shop, Mater," Aedan mumbled into her neck. "The small aunty and the mean aunty is also there."

Before Cailyn could correct Aedan that calling Felicia and Meiran names wasn't nice, he fell asleep like drugged.

"Goodness, child," she muttered as she rearranged him to a more comfortable position. "What on Arda have you been doing?"

Felicia and Meiran caught her before she could enter her bakeshop.

"It's insane inside,"Meiran confided. "Everybody is too busy staring at that elvish prince to eat properly."

Felicia admonished Meiran with a gentle look. "Now, don't say it like that. He's just busy answering the questions of children. He's actually being rather nice about it."

Cailyn giggled. "Oh, I see," she said. "I suppose you want to eat somewhere else? Aunt Enid mentioned something about a pie at home." There was a quick agreement from both women and they settled into a slow walk. "And you wouldn't believe what I saw when I had my check-up."

The devious smirk on the normally good-natured face of Cailyn made both girls straighten in interest.

* * *

Hermione felt sick to her bones as she looked at the scene in front of her.

Saldia had wards and most people's needs were attended to so depression and anger issues weren't really that big. Poverty wasn't even worth mentioning in meetings anymore. Everybody did their best to keep the country and everybody happy so to see somebody commit homicide and then suicide  _inside_  Haven city, was shocking.

"This is terrible," Hermione whispered. "What was the reason the neighbors scrounged up?"

At her side, Draco had a silken handkerchief pressed to his nose. It made his voice come out muffled as he said, "A combination of bad circumstances, terrible luck and anger issues. Oh, and a sister complex blown out of proportion."

Hermione didn't cry – she hadn't properly cried after she came out of being tortured by Bellatrix, but her eyes burned a little.

"We can't allow this," she whispered to Draco. Whispering was all she seemed capable of. The soldiers on patrol who had found the bodies was still behind them. One had lost his breakfast and another looked on the verge of collapsing.

"I may know the catalyst," Draco said. His tone closed the conversation and Hermione knew that he wanted to talk to her privately.

With a nod, they both went to do their duties. Hermione wandlessly cleansed the room of blood and arranged the bodies in a neat row. Draco didn't smile, but he wasn't scowling and it did wonders to making him look approachable. He snapped quick instructions to the three soldiers and they obeyed instantly, looking immensely better at having  _something_  to do.

"My lord?" an orphan asked, having watched the proceedings with wide eyes.

Hermione and Draco exchanged glances because the boy didn't even look disturbed. Some people were used to violence and its results but to find out that this  _child_  was one of them made their blood boil a bit.

"Do you know the siblings living here?" Hermione asked before Draco. She didn't want to risk it, he looked too angry to talk sensibly.

The boy's head bobbed up and down quickly. "Yes, my lady. Them was always arguing. And him was always angry. Her wanted to get married to a Blue robe. Him didn't like it."

Blue robe, the children's slang for the Master Healers in the Order of Healing. Black robes was for the Brotherhood.

Something tightened in Draco's expression and Hermione distracted the boy by correcting his grammar.

The impromptu lesson was cut short when Draco interrupted, saying, "Inform their friends and acquaintances, child." Draco reached for his money pouch but the child stopped him. "No, my lord. The miss was always kind to me. I'll do this without the coin. To spite him too 'coz him didn't like me." To punctuate that, the boy said a really filthy swear word that had Hermione gasping.

"Really!" she exclaimed.

"You pardon, my lady," the child blushed, recalling too late that Hermione was listening. He didn't really look sorry though.

The child scampered off and Hermione had to rub the bridge of her nose to try and stop the headache.

"Children these days," Hermione muttered. She waved her hand in a privacy ward and gave Draco an expectant look. "Well?"

He whipped off his blindfold and Hermione hastily added the visual impairing part of the ward.

"The darkness caused this," he said. "It's leeching into everything and causing the worst to come out of people. Their darkest and most hidden desires are brought out and that's just asking for trouble. It's like removing the filters of people."

Hermione wasn't quite so lost because Heather and Luna had explained to her that Draco could  _see_  the darkness that came from the South.

"I thought our wards stopped that?" she demanded.

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to get the point of it. When she still confused, he looked frustrated enough to bite her or something else drastic. And then the cogs of Hermione's ever-turning brain worked and several facts connected and enlightenment dawned on Hermione.

"Oh!" she cried. "Our wards work on the intangible. Thoughts and feelings of anger are not allowed entry. But those people outside, the people constantly exposed to the darkness will have had it seeped through their hearts or something of that sort. So the wards don't work on them."

And that was the reason why the murder rate was slowly rising, along with the suicide rate. Luna had even commented on the number of anti-depression potions being brewed by her Healers and with how busy Luna was, the number must have been significant for her to notice it.

"We'll have to make new wards," Draco concluded.

Hermione's brain, already three steps ahead, had already found a solution. She shook her head. "No. We need something that purifies. Pillars of cleansing in every entrance in Saldia. Though, with the converting of the darkness, I may need to see how it looks like from your eyes."

Draco didn't look happy at the implication but he nodded because it was for a good cause.

"Let's do this in my office," he said.

Their office had been the closest to the scene and thus, they were the ones approached by the patrol. It was quick work to go back to their work place. Draco nervously locked the door and gave a shaky nod at her Hermione, who had drawn her wand.

"Calm down," she instructed.

He took a deep breath.

" _Legilimens!"_

* * *

Lunch was a somber affair.

Heathers mind tumbled over the fact that somebody had committed the most unforgivable crime in Saldia.

"It wasn't a common case," Guiomer reported, having a closer handle in patrol reports than the rest of them. "That was an exception. If what Uncle Hodur said is true, then it is the cause for the restlessness everybody is feeling."

Hermione's quick mind remembered something else too. "Didn't Prince Theodred write something about most people in Rohan being gloomy?"

Their reassurance that this wasn't something that will regularly happen lightened Heathers mood and everybody, in turn, relaxed.

"You worry too much," Meiran remarked beside Felicia both of them having chosen to stay for lunch.

"Restlessness," Draco mused, glittering silver eyes uncovered for once. "I suppose I can do something about that."

If Luna had been there instead of being holed up in her study, she would have added to the apprehension his words caused.

"Draco, _what_?" Hermione demanded.

He smirked and warning bells rang in Heathers mind, even as the dare-devil side of her cheered him on.

"Olympics. It lasts for a month or so. Everybody will be too busy to get depressed," he said.

It was actually a very neat solution…with one small problem.

"Maybe after the Shipyard project," Heather said with a wince. "And maybe a small time after that for some recuperation of funds. That way, the Treasurer won't cry at me or something. The fellow looked like he wanted to scream at me, last I saw him."

Draco pouted, before grinning again. "But we can plan for it, right? I'll just settle Faramir up for it."

Hermione was more rational. "Feather, let's think about this for a moment. We're all rather busy, too busy in fact to even think about tackling this."

Heather shot her a look of disbelief. "Honestly, 'Mione? We organized the Committee for a reason, you know. There's something called delegating. You don't have to do everything. What happened to your faith in your subordinates?" she asked.

That was a very valid question and the group laughed as Hermione went bright red.

Before they could finish lunch, Deimos arrived, interrupting the storytelling of Cailyn's pre-natal check-up.

"What?" he asked suspiciously. Felicia stifled a giggle.

"Nothing," Meiran said sweetly. "Have you had lunch yet?"

* * *

The Pillars of Purification was something really important. Usually, when the four of them built something, they did it manually first – because really, if they did everything with magic, their economy would probably suffer. Only the urgency of it made them summon the ivory stones and shape them using magic.

It wasn't like the Bell Tower that stood proud and beautiful like a misplaced lighthouse. Instead, it was small and simple, fitting in with the surroundings. It added a decidedly Grecian feel to their country. Especially since it absorbed the darkness and turned it into light.

"It looks like those muggle lamp posts," Heather remarked. "I hope people don't get too put out that we're replacing the torches."

"I don't know why they would complain," Draco muttered. He looked tired and cranky. Everybody did but only Draco expressed it quite freely in his speech. "Those bloody torches smell and they're a fire-hazard."

The girls stifled their giggles. Heather didn't know why she found that funny.

Merlin, she needed sleep.

"Are we done?" Luna asked, still in her wrinkled dress. "I need to get back to building my boats."

By common, wordless agreement, they all dragged Luna to the showers and then to bed. She protested, quite vehemently, the entire way.

Draco, as he always did, shut her up with a well-placed sentence.

"You're the Master Healer here. Are you telling me it's alright to run on two days without sleep?" he demanded.

Heather found this funny too. Hermione rolled her eyes when she laughed and shoved Heather in the direction of her bed.

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**Faramir's Doom**

**(Or when Faramir did something he shouldn't have and paid for it)**

The note said get to Miss Meiran's office after lunch and he was punctual. He did remember that Lord Hodur despised tardiness. One of his first lessons was about time and how to make it efficient. So it stood to reason that his assistant was the same way.

Except nobody was there.

With a sigh, he settled into one of the spare chairs in the room and geared himself for a wait. He hunched down and settled his head on the table for a brief nap.

Wait a minute.

Looking back at him was a form for the approval of opening a certain event in one of the more popular hostels. That was important. He straightened up and started reading all the other papers in Miss Meiran's desk. They were all paperwork. Some important, some not quite so.

Instinctively, he started to organize them. The important pile and the not-quite-so-important file. And there was even the stupid file that didn't need approval at all. He read that and made a brief notation of it in a separate paper, pinning it to the letter.

He didn't know what possessed him. A clearing throat made him realize what he was doing and he turned to see an annoyed Meiran.

"What in Arda are you doing?" she demanded. She didn't wait for an answer and instead marched over to her table see what was going on.

Faramir closed his eyes and waited to get scolded…and waited…and waited. But it didn't come, and Miss Meiran was smiling.

"You'll do this for me and for Felicia," Meiran announced. "By Manwe, she really needs somebody with sense in her office."

Faramir was too relieved he wasn't scolded to understand that he had just sealed himself to the horror that was paperwork.


	32. Organizations: the meeting of minds

Hermione knew that some things she did in the Wandering Days (she honestly didn't like calling it that but Felicia, in all the dramatics of a budding historian, wouldn't be budged.) would have repercussions that would come back to bother her. After all, her other siblings had other quirks that showed up after wandering around for so long.

Luna's hands and eyes continuously catalogued all plants she came across, as though she was afraid of running out. Draco's ears were so unbelievably sensitive that nobody shouted near him of possible. It certainly explained his constant bad temper. And Heather was never unarmed. The minimum number of daggers on her person was ten, and that was when she was at home and as unguarded as she could possibly be.

Jointly, all of them hated to be confined. All of their offices required to have really large windows or was painted off-white to give the illusion of freedom. That one probably came even before the Wandering Days, because of the war, but that was beside the point.

The point was, she did not expect Prince Legolas to be the first to confront her on the runes she left in the Northern Forest. She expected it to be Steward Denethor, for the runes of cleanliness and freshness she etched in their wells. Or one of the Rohirrim for the runes she scratched on their stable walls for vitality and health. She really should stop putting elves's personalities in boxes. They, after all, constantly surprised her.

"Those runes, huh," Hermione managed slowly. "That's a long story. From before Saldia."

Legolas gave a slightly stiff nod. She was familiar with the gesture and knew him to be uncomfortable. It was the work of a second to send a thought to Kreacher for tea and cookies. Most people wouldn't have noticed and it was a credit to the level of Legolas's perception when he did. He stiffened slightly before forcing himself to relax in his chair. Hermione gave him a mental point of approval.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said softly, gesturing to the tray.

After a moment's deliberation, he did.

Hermione had two options – well, technically three, but she wasn't going to  _obliviate_  an elf. There was no Statute of Secrecy here, only the restrictions that they placed on themselves. Logical restrictions with perfectly good reasons. There was, after all, still a Dark Lord in Arda. They weren't about to place all their eggs in one basket.

The other two options…One was a cowards way out of  _denial_  and the other required bravery. Denial would be logical but there was a reason the Sorting Hat placed her in Gryffindor and not in Ravenclaw.

"We don't come from this world," Hermione started, immediately dropping the biggest secret. Best to get it out of the way first. "We escaped to this world after we did our duty. Things were terrible there, and we were only  _children._ "

The room suddenly felt confining and suffocating, the air heavy to breathe in.

Hermione took several gulps of air to calm herself because it would clear the anger from her mind. Legolas was watching her with wide eyes, looking startled.

"They gave children their responsibility. The legacy we inherited was war," Hermione continued. "We did our duty and they still wanted more. So we left and we came to this world and you cannot understand how  _beautiful_ we found this world.

"We wanted to  _see_  everything and to forget what we left. So we wandered for years, separately and rarely together. Then I stumbled into the Northern Woods and I felt the terrible darkness leeching into it. The effects could be seen by the mutation of the animals into dark creatures and the forest itself turned angry."

Legolas spoke and interrupted for the first time since he sat down. "We felt that," he said. "But it did not last long. We had to clean up very large spiders for months afterwards."

She nodded. "There are two forests like that in our world. Both of them were old and beautiful. One was tainted by a Dark Lord and it resulted in terrible things. Once could no longer travel there without death lingering over you. I wanted to prevent that from happening, a repetition of something we could prevent, you see."

Legolas was quiet and his golden blonde head was bowed in contemplation. Hermione would have been a nervous wreck if a part of her mind wasn't racing to make counter-arguments to possible arguments or questions he could make.

(Another part of her mind wondered what would be the next trinket Elladan would send her. One bit of her mind was always attuned to him.

Ugh! Courtship! How annoying and embarrassing.)

And finally, he raised his head and Hermione's small knot of unease vanished.

Prince Legolas wasn't smiling but there was gratitude and appreciation shining on his face. If Hermione wasn't used to how beautiful Draco was, she'd have been staggered by how beautiful and luminescent Legolas was when he dropped that polite mask.

"Thank you," he whispered. "What you have done has saved so many lives. I name you and your family to be elf-friends."

 _How would Heather react?_  Hermione thought as her mind raced. She knew she was socially awkward. Her formative years consisted of a lot of bullying and Hogwarts was a yearly struggle to stay alive.

For Helga's sake, even Heather was less socially awkward than her.

"Oh, bugger," Hermione's mouth said without consulting her brain. She flushed in embarrassment at his look of query. "Pardon me, that was just really shocking."

He laughed and it made him look a bit more human and less like a misplaced angel.

"You are surprised," Legolas said. "I shall leave you to sort out your thoughts."

Well, he was back to being polite, but at least he wasn't distant. Hermione couldn't have him reverting. She stood up and walked around her desk to give him a firm hug that had him flushing a faint pink.

"I'm surprised but happy. Thank you for the offer of friendship, Prince Legolas," she reiterated. Hermione let go after a moment because he looked very uncomfortable. "In these dark times, friends are important."

That caught his attention. "Dark times?" he asked.

Oh, Morgana! Legolas was supposed to be in vacation while in Haven city, Discussion of Dark Lords was not vacation material.

"Seek me out when you are ready to depart from Saldia and I shall tell you," Hermione compromised. "Until then, enjoy your stay in our city."

His brow furrowed but he agreed.

When he finally left, Hermione nearly dived in her haste to get a pen and paper.

" _Dear Elladan,"_  she wrote.  _"You wouldn't believe what I did today…"_

* * *

After signing the thirty-third document that really didn't need her personal approval, Heathers temper snapped.

"I can't stand this anymore," she snarled to the startled assistant. "Stop bringing me those useless documents. Get me Felicia and Enid."

The man hurried to do as instructed and Heather turned to the second assistant. "Get me Guiomer and Hodur."

An orphan braved the lions den and raised his opinion. "My lady, the Lord Guiomer be busy with that shiny elf," he said hesitantly.

The boy really was brave since he didn't flinch when Heather turned her complete attention to him. "Stick the elf in our obstacle course. The one that the Brotherhood has to go through in order to graduate," she said.  _That ought to keep him busy._

She turned to her last remaining assistant. "What's your name?"

The girl straightened her back proudly and Heather was reminded why she picked these orphans to be her personal assistants. They were sensible and not afraid of her.

"My name is Julianne, my lady," she said firmly.

Heather nodded. "Alright, Julienne, get another orphan to fetch Meiran and Deimos. Stick Faramir with Prince Legolas. Magic knows those two needs to be introduced to each other."

While everybody ran to do everything she ordered, Heather sent a mental prod to Kreacher for a cup of Herbal Headache Tea. The elf complied in a minute along with some extra cookies and teacups for the other guests.

Heather snorted in amusement at the sight of it. Cheeky elf.

"What is Merlin's name, feather?" Hermione demanded, the first to arrive since her office was closest. Her curly brown hair was crackling with irritation.

Heather waved her to take a seat. Hermione huffed and conjured herself a chair. She was used to Heather's tactic of explaining everything once everything was settled.

While they waited, and the Headache Tea was steadily drained, Heather dumped all her paperwork to the floor to clear her table. A quick spell made the table fitting for a meeting between seven people.

Draco arrived next, black blindfold tied to his wrist like a bracelet and baring his startling eyes. It enhanced his annoyed glare that wasn't deterred by his bulging cheeks as he attacked the cookies with a vengeance.

Meiran and Deimos arrived together, heads bent and whispering secrets to each others ears. Both of them didn't bat an eyelash when Draco waved a hand to conjure them their own chairs continuing their discussion solemnly.

Felicia arrived next, hair all over her face and reading glasses hanging around her neck. Her fingers were splattered with ink and her gaze was distracted. Amusingly, she looked like an efficient Luna, with ink-splattered hands and a sharp gaze.

Guiomer stumbled through her door last and hastily closed it at her stern stare. The Sword of Gryffindor hanging by his waist was quickly unbuckled and hung at the back of his own conjured chair.

Hermione started the meeting by slamming her empty teacup on the transfigured table.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Sorry guys," Heather sighed. "I know you're all busy. But this is getting ridiculous. We need proper Departments for this. When Saldia was still Haven city and  _small_ , four people with some assistants could manage running it.  _This_ ," a hand was waved emphatically to emphasize the point. "We can't keep doing this now that Saldia has been established."

Draco and Hermione understood immediately. They had, after all, come from a world littered with different government systems. Guiomer had some clue about it with all their stories. But the other three looked confused.

"My lady, what?" Felicia asked for all bewildered parties.

Hermione quickly explained things succinctly while Draco summoned parchment and ink.

"How do you want this?" Draco asked rhetorically.

Meiran understood what he meant immediately. "My lord, you can't put anybody else but Lady Gryffon in leading the people. Nobody will accept it. She's like..."

"An anchor," a familiar dreamy voice interjected.

They turned to find Luna there, handwritten blueprints for ships rolled neatly in her hands. Phobos was behind her, holding the budget plans for the Shipyard Project. Both of them had the subtle air of accomplishment even as they were ruffled and looked in dire need of several nights of good rest.

Mainly, aside from finishing their project Luna and Phobos seemed very annoyed at being left out.

For the usually apathetic Phobos, having him annoyed was surprising. For the good-natured Luna, having her annoyed was unnerving.

Nevermind headaches. Heather had a  _migraine._

"Moonbeam, you finished," Hermione said cheerfully, breaking the awkward silence.

Draco coughed. "Don't be so sensitive, Eilys. Get your arse parked here and start helping," he

barked.

Luna's silvery-gray eyes darted to each person and settled, finally on a very apologetic Heather. Her shoulders unknotted and things were back on track again. Guiomer could be heard giving very small sigh of relief.

A potential argument at the start of establishing a new government? That was an omen. Whether good or bad remained to be seen.

But, like all their planning sessions, it started with a debate. Hermione began with explaining the different government systems. An argument of the pros and cons were entered by the twins and finished by Felicia, with Meiran backing her up. Guiomer placed the final nail by announcing, "You're all arguing over the same thing. Summarily put, you're saying that you don't want the 'conventional' method of hiring people. Why don't we get a spell for that? So we can get people we can trust."

And finally, they turned to the four founders who were watching them with amusement.

"They're so adorable," Heather sighed. "Rings a sense of déjà vu, really."

Hermione and Luna exchanged looks of amusement. Draco just rolled his eyes and grabbed a spare parchment. "But you do agree with the system we chose?" he asked.

"It might need some tweaks," Guiomer said, speaking for all of them. "But yeah. The idea is there."

They all helped in putting everything into paper, so by the end of it, several things were established.

First, that all newly added departments would manage only their section and were unable to give new laws unless passed by the Council. The Department heads would be the Executive part of Saldia, per se.

Second, that the Council would approve of laws and suggest laws but the final approval came from Heather. The only way that would ever be overridden would be if there was a unanimous decision from everyone in the Council or a joint petition from all the Department heads.

The Council would come from a representative of every district, resulting in a number of forty Council Members. The requirements to be one were simple: The accomplishment of Basic Education and the faith of everybody in the district to represent them and their opinions.

Of course, the assistants and Guiomer all expressed their bewilderment on where Heathers siblings would go in the new government but Draco just rolled his eyes at their naïvety and Hermione beamed.

"We'll be the lot that criticizes any mistakes occurring," Luna interjected, voice soft yet arresting. "You can call us the committee against government mis-demeanors."

Heather laughed at the term.

However, putting it into paper was one thing and actually establishing it was another.

There are meetings and then there are  _meetings._ The poor orphans were running ragged with the number of orders tossed around but their coin pouches were fairly  _bulging_  so nobody complained.

Still, it was easier than establishing Saldia because Hermione and Guiomer were there and  _harder_  because people kept asking and somehow, gossip just couldn't cut it anymore.

"We need a way to let everybody know announcements quickly. This is absurd," Heather complained.

Luna and Heather looked on in bewilderment when Hermione and Draco exchanged ' _Eureka'_  looks.

"I'll go get it," Draco announced and he apparated away.

Hermione beamed and explained before Heather could demand what in the world was going on. "We talked about it once, if it was possible to start a newspaper business of some sort. Well, initially Draco wanted a machine that would make parchment and paper. It just sort of... _evolved_ from there."

Heather had to blink several times before her brain restarted itself. It was official. Her family was bloody  _brilliant._

"Let's do that later," Heather managed just as Draco came back, a small machine in his hands. "Let's start small, hmm? How do leaflets sound to you?"

While Luna giggled at Hermione's pouting expression, Heather and Draco tackled what to write.

* * *

Without meaning to, Heather ticked off several things in her checklist of Things-to-do.

First and foremost, the Esgaroth contingent were escorted home on the first ship that Luna built. It was one of those ships that Luna had built as a trial and actually came out better than anybody expected. Their treaty was hammered out and a River trade was established between both.

The very first department Heather started was the Trade and Tourism Department because she was  _tired_  of signing Approval Forms for merchants. It also attended to the guests and foreigners that could possibly be offended by her busy schedule.

Speaking of guests and foreigners, Faramir and Legolas got on like a house on fire. It surprised Heather for a moment before she analyzed it and laughed a little.

It made sense that the two of them would end up friends because Lord Faramir was the polite sort that just set people at ease by smiling. Prince Legolas was the extremely polite one that was afraid of offending people and probably practiced his facial expressions just to not be offensive.

Of course, it could have gone the other way too and Heather just thanked the Valar that both of them had bonded over the insane graduation obstacle course of the Brotherhood.

Eavesdropping lent surprising factors too. Both foreigners had bonded over the Brotherhood obstacle course  _and_  in commiserating over insane sword tutors.

"Lady Gryffon once made me run covered in deer blood and being chased by wolves to increase my stamina," Faramir said mournfully.

Legolas sighed too. "My tutor dropped me in the River wieghed down with stones by my feet to teach me to always be prepared in all things. I had to untie them myself lest I drown."

Heather stifled a snicker and left them to it.

* * *

DELETED SCENES: (Requested by AngelQueen)

**Sarumans curiosity, which resulted in a migraine**

The rumors of the country Saldia eventually reached Saruman the White. Being an Istari, he was insanely nosey. Unlike Gandalf the Grey, however, he wasn't nice about it. So he grabbed his palantir and tried to spy.

Miles away, in Saldia, all wizards stilled. Heather stopped signing forms, Draco paused mid-brew, Luna was elbows deep in a patient's stomache, Guiomer was receiving patrol reports and Hermione was taking a bath. Even Aedan, young though he was, paused in levitating his toys.

The reaction wasn't instant, because the wizards were curious as to who it was as well, but the watching feeling started to turn a tad bit invasive and Hermione reacted first, being in the bath and all.

With a wrench that all magicals felt, she kicked him out of Saldia and back to his body. Heather had to rub her temples at the jerk of it, it was that strong.

Saruman was found by Gandalf nursing a cup of tea that cured Headaches, the blinds lowered and his pale face decorated by a rapidly purpling handprint.


	33. Enlightenment

Draco had been subconsciously counting the months.

He was a pureblood and proud of it. Though that didn't mean much of anything in Saldia, it still meant that he knew a lot of things that other people didn't.

Take, for example, Courting. It was proper courting and as such, deserved the capital letters. It was a long and arduous process to test the determination of the man to marry and to protect the inheritance and integrity of the woman.

Being the only male in their small family, it gave him the distinct pleasure of keeping track of the courting between Elladan the elf and Hermione.

Keeping track of it, he knew that within the week, Elladan would arrive to finalize the contract between their families and prompt the preparation of the Final Dance, otherwise known as  _the wedding._

Oh, Uric, Morgana and Merlin!

While it would mean that he would no longer need to keep track of the months, it would mean the return of Hurricane Hermione. The horror.

A knock sounded on his door, bringing Draco out of his musings. "A shiny elf to see you, my lord," the messenger brat said.

He didn't need Heathers gift to know who it was already. The only other  _shiny elf_  in the city was in the Brotherhood obstacle course, trying to beat the record that Heather set.

"Lord Hodur," Elladan greeted.

Draco didn't – couldn't allow himself to smirk. This was the most crucial part of the Courtship.

"What," he asked, going straight to the point. "What exactly do you want from my cousin?"

The elf was nervous but he didn't show it. Draco knew he was nervous since he could practically see the anxiety roiling around the elfs soul. But more than that, there was resolve. Draco already approved. He just needed to hear it.

"I want to stay with her for all the rest of my immortal life," he said simply.

It wasn't cheesy. It should have been. It was just said in the most honest, most factual tone he had ever heard.

Well, that was single-minded determination.

"Why?" he persisted. That was the crux of the matter. A lesser man would have been intimidated. But then again, this wasn't just anybody. The answer was sure and without hesitation.

"Because she makes me feel happy and alive," Elladan answered.

Finally, the saccharine bits were over and done with! Draco allowed himself to smile and he removed his blindfold for the first time in the elfs presence.

"Brilliant," he said, opening his eyes to see Elladan's startled expression. "Now that's done. Lets get down to the messy bits."

The elf quickly recovered from seeing his eyes (Draco scowled a bit at that. Reveals were  _annoying_.) Draco drew up a spare parchment.

Within the remaining two hours before luncheon, they hammered out the contract.

Elladan could not fully rest until the orc population died down and Hermione could not yet leave Saldia, it being still shaky on its political feet.

"I can wait," Elladan said earnestly. "There is still a prophecy to fulfill."

Draco calculated the odds and took a leaf out of Heather's book. The logic and calculations could just jump off a ravine. Potter could eat him later, not that he would let her, but it needed to be said.

"My sister," he said. "Has visions of the future. Do you know what she sees the most in her visions?" A pause to emphasize the point. "She sees the reformation of the Dark Lord."

There was a sharp intake of breath, but Elladan stayed silent. His eyes were wide and his complexion was ashen.

"If you want to wait," he concluded. "You will have to wait until the Dark Lord is defeated for the second time, and really dead."

For a moment, Elladan laced his fingers together, head bowed in contemplation, before lifting it up to meet Draco's eyes squarely.

"Before I can have a future with her," the elf stated. "I will first have to defend that future. So yes, Lord Hodur. I will wait."

Amazed laughter was forced out of Draco. Aside from the girls, it was the first time anyone had ever impressed him  _that_  much.

* * *

Luna woke up from her second day of rest after the Shipyard Project to discordance.

For someone with her Gift, it was especially disorienting. Only experience in handling it made her realize what was wrong.

Quickly, she dressed, splashed water on her face and tried to stop Cailyn and Guiomer from arguing. Note on Cailyn. What were both of them thinking when the woman was pregnant and very near delivery?

"That's our son!" Cailyn was yelling, face flushed in anger.

"I know!"Guiomer yelled back, multi-colored hair waving a bit with the magic reacting to his anger. "He chose it! He wanted it! That's his signature right there!  _I_ didn't force him!"

Cailyn's eyes flashed. "You didn't need to! You let him stare at that bloody sword every night! That's dangling something like a carrot in front of a donkey!"

Luna had had enough. She hurt a bit too since she finally understood what was going on.

"Stupefy!" Luna murmured, aiming the intent of it to Guiomer. Kreacher obediently caught Guiomer and laid him gently on the sofa. Cailyn started, hand going protectively to her protruding belly.

"Aunt Eilys!" she gasped. "We…you…"

Luna hushed her with a wave of her hand, summoning at the same time a Calming Draught.

"Drink that," Luna instructed. "And then I'll talk to you."

A humming and happy soul behind her made her smile as she turned around. Fenny, grey hair already frosting his fur. "Fenny, love. Fetch Aedan for me, will you? That naughty boy, making his parents argue like that."

Fenny's tongue lolled out, agreement ringing out of his soul. A moment later, he butted her thigh and ran out.

Turning back to Cailyn, Luna found the woman calmly waiting for her, the red faded from her cheeks and sheer mortification overtaking her expression.

"I'm sorry," Cailyn sighed. "I suppose I may have overreacted a little when I saw Aedan's name in the roster for Brotherhood applicants."

Well, that confirmed her theories. Really, that boy!

"Cailyn sweetheart," Luna said. "The sword of Gryffindor  _demands_ to be wielded. It takes such a toll on those that inherit it. That is the enchantment reacting. But Gryffindor's line began  _ages_  ago. Don't you find it strange that the line hasn't died out, what with the bloodline always seeking justice and demanding chivalry?"

Comprehension was on Cailyn's face. Finally!

"So," she whispered. "The sword is entwined intimately with my husband."

There was fear ringing in Cailyn's soul. Fear for Guiomer and an unbelievably overwhelming fear for Aedan. Now that wouldn't do.

"Hmm," Luna mused. How would Heather do this? "Cailyn, there is a saying in our world. Those who live by the sword, die by the sword. But the ones who coined that have never held the sword of Gryffindor. It's old, child. It's practically sentient. More importantly, it never allows its wielder to die."

Ah, her work was done. Cailyn's turbulent soul had finally calmed. Slowly, but it was calming down. Good. The unborn fetus also calmed down and the discordant music she was hearing went away.

The  _click-click_  of Fenny's claws on the wooden floor alerted Luna of Aedan's arrival, even as Aedan's soul rang out, the very essence of laughter and sunshine.

"Aedan!" Cailyn said sternly. "I'll allow you to enroll in the Brotherhood but not until you pass by another four winters."

The boy's cute, innocent expression morphed into an expert pout. Legolas must have given the child tips. It was good enough to make even Luna feel guilty and she wasn't party to that restriction at all.

"Mater!" Aedan whined.

And now, he was sounding like a whining Fenny. Cheeky little mimic.

"No," Cailyn said, as hard-hearted as a troll.

Chuckling a bit at the scene, Luna casted a silent  _enervate_  at Guiomer and left the little family to it.

* * *

Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to a bunch of uncontrolled, completely eager fifth years was  _nothing_  compared to teaching the bunch that they had carefully selected to become Department Heads. Most of them were members of the committee, now dissolved. They were eager and  _thirsting_ to understand the how's and why's of Saldia and its management.

It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Heather had never really had an audience this…bloodthirsty? – yes, bloodthirsty for information. Considering that Heather had taught those eager adolescents in the cusp of war, that was saying something.

Perhaps it was merely Hermione's principles shining through and  _actually_  getting through to the citizens. She had, after al, taught the first settlers for the first fifteen years.

"A building is to be established in this district," Heather lectured, pointing to the chalkboard. "It has the potential to be a tourist attraction because of its business. Is it logical to approve it or not?"

The Department Head assigned to that was the center of attention as he mulled it over. "Yes, my lady," he finally answered after a moment. "Though the neighborhood is not quite as reputable as the other districts, there are two restaurants in that area that has a good reputation and is helping the district in becoming more hospitable."

Of course, it helped that most of them had been taught by either Hermione or Draco. They learned  _fast_.

"Good. Now, take the next situation…" she continued.

It was, sadly, completely second nature to Heather that she could discuss the topic and think about plenty of other things at the same time while still managing to sound coherent.

In particular, she thought about Faramir, who was at the back of the room and listening with rapt attention.

This was the first time she had ever taught him something other than fighting and battle tactics and the surprise on his face when the lecture started was both gratifying and somehow insulting at the same time.

Plenty of people wielding the sword could fight and strategize at the same time! She was not all brawn!

Err…right. Perhaps she was misreading his body-language?

So Faramir was eating everything she was teaching, with a ferocity that surpassed even the ones the lecture was actually directed at.

If he combined what she was teaching, which was basically, "How to Run Your Own Country," the principles and theories that Hermione had taught him, along with the political warfare that Draco and Luna instructed him, then Faramir could probably conquer several countries and still be praised for it.

By Merlin and Morgana, she was creating a monster.

But Faramir would never fit into history like that, Heather mused further. He was  _horrified_  at the thought of indoctrination and societal conditioning. He worried about his people while thinking of counters to the same threats at the same time. And he was such a pacifist that he would never be like Alexander the Great.

If Heather would really describe him, she'd call him a politically brilliant warrior with a heart.  _That_ was a rare thing to find in any world.

 _One thing was certain_ , Heather though as she finished the lecture just in time for luncheon.  _Whatever the future holds, Faramir will be very important._

* * *

It was the bird that first clued Hermione in. Truly, there were very few people in Arda who used daytime owls for letter delivery, judging by the twine around its legs.

The second thing was the sudden glances she received when she exited the Administrative Building. Hermione was used to  _glances_  because they had founded Saldia, but these glances had an edge to it. Like all faithful people of Saldia, they followed the Charter.

Those glances  _inferred_  something and they wanted her to ask.

"Yes?" she asked the nearest gossiping biddy, who turned out to be an Order member.

"Your beau has come back, my lady!" the journeyman healer said with completely  _too much_  cheer and happiness. Hermione hated her, for just a small moment. She didn't know somebody could actually sound  _perky._

She mentally apologized as she regained her bearings. Hermione blamed it on the short-temper she'd started with in the morning, when they'd run out of coffee and Kreacher had almost had a hysterical breakdown.

Then the words registered in her mind.

Wait,  _what_! Beau!

"An elf, my lady," the journeyman healer supplied helpfully.

Hermione swallowed down a growl and managed not to stomp down the street. How dare that elf not look for her? He knew she wanted to see him! It had been nearly a year since they last saw each other and letters just did not cut it.

But she found Elrohir first, talking animatedly with Prince Legolas in lyrical Sindarin.

"Elrohir," she said sweetly. "Where's your brother?"

The elf took one look at her face and gulped. "He's closeted with your cousin," he answered.

That meant they were creating a contract. Bugger, and didn't that make her feel like a piece of cattle?

However, her temper wasn't fair on Elrohir, who had done nothing to deserve it. With a sigh, she massaged her temples and counted from one to ten.

She felt marginally better afterwards and managed a better smile to give to Elrohir. "I need a distraction," she announced. "So you better distract me."

Elrohir was dragged away and the elf, determined not to be alone with a temperamental female, reached out quickly and snagged Prince Legolas's arm.

"Don't leave me!" he whispered to the alarmed prince.

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**A day with Kreacher**

Kreacher woke up a whole three hours before the sun shone, humming in his deeper and smoother voice.

What nobody realized was that the entire sanitation of the country relied on Kreacher. He had watched as his Masters had created the wards and tied his own House-Elf magic in it, undetectable by any other creature but another House-Elf.

The little tweak he had placed made him notice all the dirty parts of the city and he apparated to each place personally every morning, casting cleansing charms with his own special magic.

Long ago, when the country was still a city, it would only take half an hour. With the enlargement of the settlement, it took Kreacher three hours. Of course, it helped that the messy humans were conscientious of their trash.

When he got back to the house, the Master Heather was  _cooking_ breakfast. Appalled, Kreacher tried to stop her and they got into an argument. This was routine too.

Then the messy wizards went to work and Kreacher went on cleaning. He had an entire country to clean! He would have been the envy of all the House-Elves back home.

He worked on it, little by little, stopping only to cater to the needs of his Masters when they called on him, which wasn't often. Kreacher honestly would run out of work around the afternoon because his Masters had warned him not to clean the houses of the other messy people without their permission, something about inappropriate and absence of personal space.

So he watched the Youngest Master Black and The-Annoying-Creature-That-Shed-Fur named Fenny play around. He casted the pertinent charms for all the messes they got into.

Master Heather often asked after his day. Kreacher always told the truth. It was the happiest he had ever been. She never really believed him completely.

Silly wizard. A House-Elf was only as happy and as perfectly well as their Master is and all four of his Masters were very happy people.


	34. The Rolling Stones

Deimos's trouble radar started going crazy the moment he found himself roughly shaken awake by a frantic and pale Meiran.

"Wha - ?" he tried to say, ready to unleash annoyance and irritation on her, lover or not. That it, until his bleary eyes finally focused on the small red colored vial she was shaking vigorously in front of his face.

Deimos suddenly felt faint, his throat going dry and rough.

To elucidate, the potion in the vial was one of the sort of Do-it-yourself tests that didn't need a healer to do. It was the greatest success of the Research Department, according to Phobos. It was also a simple pregnancy test.

It was a small vial with a grey ' _sleeping'_  potion that reacted to three drops of blood. Black was negative and red was positive.

Hence, why Deimos shut down several brain cells for a couple of seconds. It really wasn't the sort of news one should get before breakfast and proper coffee.

A whimper from Meiran restarted his brain again. Meiran was a sharp and brave woman. He didn't like hearing her make the sound of a dying animal.

"What do we do?" she asked, brown eyes wide and panicked.

Deimos felt like he was channeling his brother when he pushed aside his natural impulse to say a sarcastic comment. In fact, he felt positively saint-like when he said instead, "We're going to get married, of course."

While Saldia might have no prejudice against unmarried and single mothers, neither of them could bear to see the disappointment on either of their teachers' faces if both of them didn't think to do their responsibility by the unborn child.

Meirans natural color was returning and she didn't look quite like a corpse. "Really?" she asked, a hint of sardonic amusement leaking through. "I suppose I ought to be nice to you and not tell Lord Hodur about the baby until after the marriage."

The smidgeon of hope, which he had been nursing that he would make it out of the current ordeal with his genitals unharmed, withered and died piteously.

"Do you want to take bets instead on how long they'll notice it?" he asked. "Nothing ever really stays secret what with our Lords and Ladies having those infernal gifts."

Meiran finally gave up and buried her head under the sheets.

"Oh, Manwe," she moaned. "I can't face my master, especially with those Valar-damned eyes of his."

Perhaps he had been spending too much time with his own teacher, Deimos reflected since a bubble of amusement was starting to bubble up and it wasn't even hysterical.

"What's so amusing?" she demanded, the temper that he had fallen in-love with peeking out.

Deimos cleared his throat. "I think we're worrying about the wrong things," he clarified. He wouldn't tell her what he found amusing. He had  _some_  preservation instincts, no matter what Phobos said. "When are we getting married anyway?" he asked, changing the topic and successfully distracting her.

Meiran blinked in astonishment, almost setting Deimos off again. Apparently, the bride-to-be hadn't even thought of it yet.

Of course, the constraints that dictated the wedding of Lord Guiomer and Lady Cailyn wouldn't touch theirs seeing as two years ago, the Research and Development Department had managed to successfully create large storage containers that held the cold rather well. A couple of tweaks and some spell work guaranteed no decomposition of the stored food. They could even manage to have a Winter Wedding, if Meiran wanted to.

Then again, Meiran hated Winters with a passion, given that she usually had to deal with a grumpy Hodur who hated Winters even more. Deimos didn't know why and the reason was probably very bad since only the other founders knew. It involved shuttered eyes, a lot of alcohol and plenty of distractions.

"Autumn. Maybe a day after the Festival of Saldia's founding?" Meiran offered, interrupted his dark thoughts.

Deimos quirked a brow. "That's two weeks in the earliest or a month at the latest," he pointed out. "That's even less preparation time than Cailyn's and Lord Guiomers wedding."

Meiran shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "I don't really expect to invite a lot of people. I mean, probably half of Saldia will want to join the dancing and feasting but for the ceremony itself…"

He huffed in amusement but said nothing. Truly, it wasn't his dilemma. Apparently, as Lady Gryffon stated once, "The job of a groom is to taste all possible dishes offered, give glowing praises when asked and to appear beside the priest during the wedding day."

"Whatever you want, my potions mistress," he murmured, amusement in his voice.

* * *

Luna's news about Aedan signing up in the Brotherhood without his parents permission, and so early too, gave Heather a headache.

Perhaps they had left him with Fenny and to the people all alone for too long. However, he never gave any hint of dissatisfaction, else Kreacher would have shown his displeasure to them blatantly. Kreacher had  _ideas_  about how proper Blacks should act. That Aedan signed up on his own showed how unbelievably headstrong and stubborn the boy was.

Heather massaged her temples in an effort to stop the headache from turning into a full-blown migraine.

Unbidden, the image of Aedan, cheeks flushed and dimpled as he smiled, green eyes wide with feigned innocence. It was impish, adorable and very,  _very_  fitting for the great-grandson of a Marauder.

"Merlin, child," Heather groaned. "Your father was not half so troublesome as you. This must be from your mothers side of the family."

A cough broke through Heathers minor dramatics.

"What's got you so troubled?" Hermione asked, voice amused. "I mean, if you're in that state, it must be something to do with your progeny and his charming little family."

Heather gave Hermione a look. "Stop using that deducting thing you do for crimes against the city's charter." A quick look around had Heather raising an eyebrow. "And what's Faramir doing with you anyway? Isn't he usually with Meiran or Luna at this time of the day?"

Hermione looked tempted to roll her eyes but refrained, accepting the change of topic with a sigh. "Meiran and Deimos didn't report for duty. Well, I don't exactly blame them. Nobody has actually ever had a holiday, working here."

A pointed cough had Hermione smirking. "Yes, I had a point to coming here," she said. "I heard from Cailyn about Aedan's naughty little decision that nearly had her delivering early. Then Meiran and Deimos didn't show up for work and Faramir is left drifting because he was anal enough to finish all of his work the previous night."

Heather made a sharp gesture to show her impatience. "Get to it," she muttered. :I need a headache potion, Hermione."

Hermione, the minx that she was, gave a tinkling mischievous laugh that gave hints of the friend in Hogwarts that suggested sneaking in the Restricted Section, tackled Penelope Clearwater once Heather gave a hint that she'd heard Parseltongue and stuck Draco Malfoy in a body-bind to lecture him about the use of the words purebloods, mudbloods and half-bloods in decent conversation.

For a moment, it allowed the headache to pulse down a little. Heather managed a smile in remembrance of those more innocent days. Innocent and extremely confusing days.

"Why don't you allow Faramir to teach Aedan?" she continued, oblivious to Heather's small trip down memory lane. "He's leaving within two years, you know. We're running out of things to teach him. Aside from your regular lectures and borrowing Luna's thesis books, he has nothing else to learn from us. For Rowena's sake, we actually need to pay him for sorting through Felicia and Meiran's paperwork everyday."

There was the point and it was a good idea too.

Heather levered herself up from the desk, giving Hermione her full attention. Her mind was whirling with the thought of it. "That might work," she muttered. "But Felicia would have to tell him. She's in charge of the education department, you know."

This time, Hermione gave in and rolled her eyes. "I know. You don't have to tell me since I did the arrangement for the departments."

She sighed. Really, people and their cheek. "Yes, Hermione, you did. But you technically have to specify to Faramir what he  _can_  teach Aedan."

Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face and she gave a smirk as she trounced out of the office, dragging Faramir who was hanging by the door, trying not to eavesdrop.

Heather gave another sigh.

* * *

To start off, Draco wasn't a bad brother.

Sure, he was cynical, sarcastic and generally had hair-trigger temper before he had his coffee. But he was also perceptive, practical and very  _very_  proud. The stick lodged up his arse hadn't quite gone yet but it was going away, bit by bit.

Still, it didn't mean he was perfect, nor was he very terrible at being a brother. Luna supposed that was the reason her instincts and her dreams had led her to Grimmauld Place.

"Draco," Luna murmured. "You should check the wording in the second and fifth paragraph. Hermione wouldn't exactly be happy with the phrase you're using."

The blindfold tied to his wrist bared Draco's brilliant eyes and they visibly narrowed as he saw what she meant.

"I suppose the standard contract wording wouldn't work," he remarked.

Seeing as half of those were practically selling away the female and the other half involved alliances, then no, it didn't apply. Truly, Luna wanted to trash the entire thing and just go for a spontaneous marriage, but that would hurt his feelings. Usually, Luna wouldn't care about hurting people's feelings but experience working in the Hospital had taught her tact. Especially with pregnant women.

"Why don't you change the clauses here?" she suggested. "It protects both engaged parties from outside interferences from either family."

He scoffed. "No. That would leave them vulnerable too."

A couple of feet away from the sofa, Fenny and Aedan were roughhousing. Kreacher could be seen hovering at the sides, hands wrung nervously as he casted the pertinent charms to protect the child and the animal from hitting important and soft body parts too hard.

The situation niggled a bit at Luna's mind.

Looking back at the contract draft, she was dismayed to find that Draco was casting  _evanesco_  on paragraph five.

"No!" she cried. "Stop, that paragraph could have been salvaged."

Draco truly gave impressive scowls. It would have cowed anybody else but to Luna, he looked like he was pouting. Rather like Fenny when she denied him the last delicious roasted rabbit.

"You do it then, if you're so clever," he muttered.

After another glance at the child and the wolf rolling around in a game to show the others dominance, an idea came.

"Why don't you add a subclause?" she asked instead. "If you made it so that any concerned party, closely related and without any malicious intentions helps then it cancels out the previous one."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he considered it and snapped his mouth shut, quill working so quickly that the ink splattered in his hands.

Cailyn and Felicia entered then, carrying with them the overpoweringly delicious scent of baked goods that the game on the floor stopped and both animal and child gave Cailyn begging eyes.

"Don't ask me," Cailyn said with a smile. "Ask your Aunt Felicia. Apparently, she's holding the cookies hostage until you wash up and behave."

There was a dismayed silence and then boy and fox both scrambled to the nearest washing area to clean themselves up.

Luna covered a smile as the girls dissolved into mischievous giggles. Draco only twitched minutely at the noise, so engrossed he was with revising his paragraph.

"That worked splendidly," Felicia exclaimed. "But if you do it often, you will be rolling that fox when he gets too fat."

Cailyn sighed, settling into her chair with a tiny wiggle. "Only for a while then. I truly cannot stand too much excitement. I get tired so easily now."

Here, Luna interrupted. Her eyes critically examined Cailyn's pregnant form. "You just need rest, love. Its almost time for you to deliver that baby."

Both girls nodded and resumed their topic of speculating the reason for Meiran and Deimos's absence. Luna kept quiet and listened with half an ear while she watched Felicia.

The petite woman had handled the bulk of Saldia's paperwork, halving it with Heather. All of the others had their more important side projects and could only deal with so much. So Felicia shouldered it without complaint.

The recent establishment of the country's government had done her a good turn and she no longer looked so pale and tired all the time. Felicia's smile even reached her eyes these days and there were lesser ink splatters on her hands.

Personally, Luna thought they had done Hermione's assistant a disservice. But what was done was done and Luna made a mental note to assign a Trainee Healer to Felicia soon. She needed her diet checked and sleeping patterns regulated.

A quick patter of tiny feet broke Luna out of her thoughts and she saw Aedan and Fenny, hair and fur dripping wet and reeking of soap-scented cleanliness.

Felicia took one look and surrendered the cookies.

As expected, Luna thought with amusement. Fenny had the market cornered when it came to puppy dog eyes and pleading whines. Aedan came a close second, the cheeky mimic that he was. Only a troll could hold out on both of them.

"Avia!" Aedan cried, mouth full of cookies. "Pater!"

Heather entered, wincing at the light and rubbing a hand to her temples. Guiomer was beside her, both of them in deeo conversation. They startled at Aedan's cries and beamed at him. Their resemblance showed in the similarity of their smiles.

"Were you good today?" Guiomer asked. The boy nodded vigorously. Luna, recalling the incident where a pot of flowers almost broke because Aedan and Fenny were playing too hard to pay attention to their surroundings, almost snorted.

"I found you a teacher," Guiomer continued. "You know Faramir, don't you, my little dragon slayer."

It was quite a thing to watch the boy straighten up and give his father his complete and undivided attention. Here, his resemblance to his grandmother shone stronger. Heather had this look that she gave you when she was giving you her complete attention. It felt like you were the only one in the room while she gave you that look. For Aedan, it was not quite such a heavy look yet, but it was getting there.

"Kreacher," Heather asked. "Is Luncheon ready?"

The house-elf gave her an indignant stare. "Of course it is, Master Heather," he said. As though it was unimaginable for luncheon to be not ready.

"What about Aunt Enid?" Cailyn asked as she carefully waddled to the dining table.

Draco finally surfaced from the contract draft, in time to hear the question. "Don't bother," he muttered. "That one is stuck with her fiancée and will probably not show up until he leaves."

Heather managed a scowl. "She definitely had time to pester me this morning," she said. "Where on Arda are Meiran and Deimos anyway? Phobos I can understand, given that he is enamored with one of the Trainee Healers in the Hospital, but – "

"Wait," Luna interrupted. "Phobos, my Phobos, enamored with a Trainee Healer?"

There was a cautious nod from Heather and everyone watched Luna's reaction carefully since it was well-known that she considered the twins as good as her own sons.

"Why didn't he tell me," Luna moaned sadly. "I would've stopped setting him up with other women."

The others choked on their laughter at the unexpected statement.

* * *

The three elvish rings of power, while untainted by the power of the one ring, was still bound to its fate. While it was powerful and unharmed, so too did the three rings retain its power.

However, because the fate of the rings was bound to each other, Lady Galadriel could not herself act. She could defend, yes and Lothlorien was one of the most protected Safe Havens in Arda, but to personally attack the growing darkness was beyond her. She could only have faith.

"What ails you, Lady Galadriel?" Elrond Half-elven asked. His serious face flashed in her mind as she meditated.

"The darkness is getting stronger," she explained, mind troubled at her complete  _inability_  to act. "There is a shroud of emptiness in Minas Morgul. My sight cannot see what lies beyond its borders."

Telling Elrond did not help with anything. Elrond and Galadriel held two of the elvish rings of power, Vilya and Nenya, respectively. Its power was mainly for protection.

"Do not lose faith," he told her. "Though my dreams are getting darker, there is always a light that never falters. It gives me hope."

Galadriel managed a smile. "Yes, those brilliant lights," she whispered. "I can see them in the distance, growing brighter and brighter the longer they stay in Arda. Their souls are exquisite in its purity."

The connection ended with the last image of Elrond managing a small smile of his own. Galadriel immediately felt better.

"You seem to be in a good state today, my dear lady," Celeborn greeted her as he perched beside her on the wooden steps.

She smiled at him, eyes shining and heart lifted up with momentary gladness. "Lord Elrond gave me brilliant news."

While she shared her news to her spouse, Galadriel clenched a hand around the ring Nenya.

 _A little more_ , she thought.  _Eru, I can manage for a little while longer._

That was the curse of the Ring of Water. It increased her longing for the sea, so much so that on any lesser elf, it would have driven them mad. But she was Galadriel. While Melkor's taint, Sauron, existed, she could not sail.

 _Oh father_ , she prayed.  _Give me fortitude._

* * *

Coming from one of his occasional visits to his hobbit friend, Gandalf passed by Saldia on a whim and had to pause to gape at its changes.

The city had grown huge! What had they done these past years? And was that a  _Bell Tower?_

A joyful yell pulled him out of his shock and he saw Gryffon dragged by a child who had her eyes."

"Gandalf the Grey!" she cried out, joy and sheer relief in her face as she assessed him. "You're alive and well! The last I saw you was during my sons wedding!"

He felt a twinge of guilt as well as some measure of relief and happiness too. Gryffon had not changed in the slightest.

"I am sorry, my friend. I was busy, ah, re-establishing fallen connections." Specifically, with the dwarves. But she didn't need to know that.

"Good of you," she nodded approvingly. "You should – " She cut herself off and glanced down. The boy was tugging at her shirt. Gryffon grinned. "Impatient little thing. Gandalf, this is my grandson, Aedan," she introduced.

Gandalf allowed himself a moment to marvel at how precocious and advanced Aedan was before he gave the boy a little bow. Pleased to meet you, young Lord Aedan."

The boy nodded back solemnly. "Hello. Why is your beard that long? Auntie Meiran says that only men who don't have wives grow beards."

Gryffon choked on her laughter and managed a weak, "Aedan! You don't say that to people you just met! Go ask your tutor why."

Aedan gave a decisive nod and left at a run after giving Gandalf a considering look. Gandalf only felt a little bit pole-axed. Truly, only Gryffon and her unique family ever managed to make him feel that.

"Precious little thing," he said, giving her a pointed look.

She shrugged. "It's in the blood. Now, why don't you tell me all about your recent adventure?"

They walked together towards one of the familiar Hostels and she accidentally brushed his arm. Immediately, Gryffon stiffened.

"What is it?" he asked. "Gryffon?"

But no, it wasn't a vision. Her eyes were clear, her gaze accusing.

"Have you been dabbling with the darker magic's?" she asked.

It was shocking enough that she asked him that. To accuse him too? "Of course not!" he said, glaring at her in outrage.

She flung a hand to one of the streetlights. "Then explain why you positively  _reek_  of dark magic?" Did you pass by somewhere with Dark Magic? Or associated with someone with Dark Magic?"

Gandalf kept shaking his head and Gryffon became more flustered. Her colorful braid waved a bit, coming to life with her exasperation.

"You better know," she muttered. "Because its recent. Barely a week ago. Where did you come from before coming to Saldia?"

Hobbiton, the Shire, not that he would tell her that either. Hobbits were as far removed from the rest of Middle Earth's problems as could be possible. The only one who kept himself up to date was Bilbo but that was…impossible…was it?

"I have my suspicions," he soothed her. "I will check on it when I leave."

Gryffon wouldn't let him take a step further into Saldia without passing by a cleansing chamber. It was full of little stones that glowed very bright when he entered the small room.

"What was that?" he asked.

She shot him a worried look but answered anyway. "Cleansing stones. We're sending them to all members of the Brotherhood and the Order for their own protection. But those little buggers keep giving theirs away to villagers. They have no idea how hard or how tiring it is to make the stones," she said.

While Saldia's innovation made him forget a little, a small bit of him still thought of the possibility that Bilbo Baggins had the one ring.

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**The wrong worry and hurried weddings**

Luncheon was almost over when the missing couple showed up. Both of them held each others hand and it was obvious that both of them were worried about something.

When they saw Draco's uncovered eyes, they sighed in relief. That is until Luna cocked her head to the side like she was listening to something.

"There's a second soul with Meiran," she remarked. "Or maybe it was to do with the scallops."

Kreacher gave an indignant screech while the couple paled. Heather took one look at them and smirked. "Oooh! Unplanned pregnancy!" she said.

Draco's head snapped to look at them so quickly that it was a miracle he didn't get a whiplash. "Who is pregnant?" he asked.

"I'm marrying her," Deimos said hurriedly, glancing at his master with worried eyes. Luna had a tiny crease in her eyebrows. "Just,  _please_  spare me the lecture."

Cailyn gave a disapproving look. "You better," she murmured. "The poor thing needs all the help she can get."

Disapproving looks and glares were all right. Deimos was just relieved he got out of telling them with no body parts removed from his person.

* * *

Scene 2:

**Theodred's headache and pieces of jewelry**

He supposed it took him a while to notice it but there was a sudden influx of necklaces and bracelets among his people.

The general design was usually a piece of colored string with a white transparent stone strung through. It was beautiful, simple and seemed to be glowing. That it seemed to originate from the Brotherhood and Order building was an answer enough.

Half of his people though seemed to be engrossed in turning it into a gaudier piece of jewelry. The other half wanted to change the string with metal or something of that sort. Therein lay the headache. Why were they playing with the glowing stone anyway?

"At least they're not being gloomy all the time these days," he muttered. "And all they needed was jewelry to make them happy?"

Somehow, Theodred just  _knew_  this had something to do with Lady Gryffon.


	35. Babies, Potions and Battle Tactics

Gandalf only managed to stay for two weeks before the typical restlessness of a Wanderlust – an adjective that Hermione attached to him the moment she saw his adventurous smile – reacted once more. Gandalf really wasn't the sort to stay still for long, unless he had a reason to. So he left and he brought with him Legolas.

A day after he left, Cailyn's labor pains started, which made the second son of Guiomer an Autumn child.

It was a difficult labor and completely nothing like how the first one went. Her labor pains lasted for nine hours and she lost so much blood that three bottles of Blood Replenishers were used. By the end of it, Cailyn had to be put in a deep healing sleep and Guiomer almost forgot about the baby boy in his worry.

Heather reminded him, with a stern emphasis on not  _neglecting_ or  _blaming_  the child over something he could not possibly control or be responsible for.

Fortunately, Guiomer understood what she meant and took note of her words. The boy was named Ciaran, after Cailyn's brother.

"His second name?" Luna pressed. "That's important, Guiomer love. You've started it, you should continue it."

Guiomer took a shuddering breath and caressed Cailyns limp hand. "Gabriel. Gabriel Potter," he whispered.

Hermione nodded in approval. "That's a strong name, yet also a kind name," she said.

There was a moment of quiet contemplation of Cailyns sleeping form before Luna jerked up, looking rather startled, and rushed to the door. They all exchanged mystified looks.

"Do you – " Heather started to ask.

"No, I don't know where she went," Draco cut in.

Luna returned a moment later, carrying a thick, ornate book bound in gold and what looked like Dragon hide. It was obviously a book from the Black Library. And also, since Draco straightened up in his chair like one struck with a stinging Hex, he recognized it too.

There was a tense silence as Draco and Luna pored over the book, with only frantic whispers and the rustling of brittle pages being carefully flipped. Then the healer gave a triumphant  _ha!_ with a victorious finger pointed at a certain script to emphasize her point.

"That wouldn't work," Draco interrupted Luna's victorious little wiggle. "We've run out of Devil's Snare It just doesn't seem to grow in any of Arda's soil."

Hermione finally got impatient and summoned the book, reading the opened page. "No, we could substitute that ingredient with that tentaculous vine I found in the Northern Woods," she suggested. "What the potion requires is a plant that is near sentient but not quite. That vine could give Devil's Snare a run for its money."

Heather managed to refrain from snorting but she did have to cough. "I'll be the judge of that," came out.

Hermione, probably remembering first year and Heather nearly being choked to death, smirked. The initial experience had been terrifying as anything but the passing years had made the memory amusing instead.

"Pardon to interrupt," Guiomer cut in with a strained voice. "But can one of you lot tell me what that potion is for?"

The quiet debate being discussed about replacing Chimera feathers with Golden Eagle feathers native to Hafny's homeland was abruptly cut short.

"It's a healing potion," Luna explained. "Cailyn's body, from what I diagnosed, has a lot of damage in letting little Ciaran out. It's mostly the internal bleeding that's worrying since no healing potion I can currently make can heal that. If she was a wizard, her magic will automatically fix it, but since she's not... then this potion should do it."

Until then, Luna had kept a tight lid on Cailyn's state of health so it was a bit understandable that Guiomer blanched and wobbled, looking like he was going to faint. A deep breath had him steadying and his hold on Cailyn's hand tightened.

"What are the alternatives?" Guiomer asked after he had gotten a grip of himself. The ability to think above his emotions showed the evidence of his military training.

Luna, somehow knew he wasn't talking about potions. "If she heals naturally," she said. "There is a possibility that she will be too damaged to have another child. Ciaran will be her last. And she will be more susceptible to all kinds if illness. This isn't the sort of thing one recovers from, sweetheart. Normally, she should have died, but Lord Elrond taught me how to prevent that."

Guiomer nodded, his gratitude shining in his eyes. "Please, Aunt Eilys. Do everything you can."

* * *

In contrast to Aedan, who was very fussy, restless and a downright noisy baby, Ciaran was very  _very_ quiet.

While the Research Department was busy working on the Healing potion – and that occupied Hermione, Luna and Draco's time – Cailyn was still under an enforced Healing coma and that occupied Guiomer's mind to distraction. Being the dutiful grandmother, Heather volunteered to watch over Ciaran during the day.

And therein lay the dilemma of Ciaran's unnerving silence.

Heather had watched over Aedan in his infant days and Aedan was a demanding baby. It was completely impossible to forget him, even for a moment.

When he was happy, he had gurgled and cooed. When he was angry, he had bawled. When he was frustrated, his tiny baby face went red and it was  _adorable_. Such a wide range of expressions for such a small child and it signified how advanced Aedan really was.

Ciaran, though very quiet, was no less advanced.

Ciaran slept a lot and though that could be discounted on his age, he also  _watched_. While he hadn't inherited Guiomer's – and in conjunction – Heather's green eyes, Ciaran had inherited the fascinating light-reddish-brown eye color of Cailyn's mother. Those reddish-brown eyes watched with such intensity and it was a bit unnerving because, while Heather wasn't a healer, she knew such young babies had bleary and unfocused eyes. That Ciaran was aware enough to focus being only a week-old baby was…never mind.

But Heather loved Ciaran. He watched, played and entertained himself. He enchanted her wand to remind her not to leave the baby in the office and to feed him every two hours.

Heather lost count of the number of times she blessed magic and the fact that they had started shunting of their duties to the new government. She had forgotten how tiring it was to watch over a newborn.

And of course, there were still Aedan and Fenny's pleas and whines because the other busy adults were neglecting them. It was enough to drive the poor grandmother mad.

When the prototype potion was finished and deemed successful, Heather was one of the many who sighed in genuine relief that Cailyn was well and mended. Besides Guiomer becoming a moping lump and easily distracted, Cailyn's most faithful regulars at the Bakeshop felt her absence keenly.

* * *

The River that passed through Saldia was snow melt from the mountain ranges. Mostly, it was cold but a little bit of tinkering from R & D, magic and Ancient Runes gave everybody functioning hot water pipes. It was big and cleaner than the un-tinkered pipes.

Luna had stressed out cleanliness and personal hygiene several times as a key to a healthy lifestyle. That resulted in several hot springs showing up in the country rendering free service. What wasn't free, however, were the essential oils and soaps sold by whomever Heather set to watch over the establishment. It was cheap enough that everybody could afford it.

It was also the perfect place to get rid of any stress and tension that a week of very little sleep and intense concentration gave you.

Hermione and Luna sank in the water of the nearest hot spring and gave twin groans of ecstasy. By the quiet and more dignified sigh at the other end of the screen, Draco had just done the same thing. They had luckily chosen one of the quieter days of bathing or else there would be new gossip by the end of the day.

After all, it was still an ongoing debate on whether the hot springs were a private or a public area.

"That's the first time we've ever done that," Draco said, breaking the silence. He was obviously referring to the potion.

The few patrons soaking in were quiet but polite. They were obviously eavesdropping but Hermione didn't care. If she expended energy to care, she'd slither down the water in exhaustion and relaxation.

"There wasn't a call for it before," Luna replied, voice soft yet carrying. "So it did not motivate us to do so."

Hermione nearly snorted. "There probably was a call for it," she had to say when Luna turned those protuberant eyes at her. "But we were just not quite so personally involved as with that one."

Nobody answered that and Hermione took to studying her surroundings. She was just doing  _anything_  to keep her mind awake and to not fall  _asleep_. The coaxing heat of the water was so relaxing.

"We should probably do something about that," Luna said, interrupting the sleepy lull that Hermione was starting to fall into. "We mustn't stagnate. Feather would get so annoyed."

"Standards and guidelines," Hermione added.

"But let it not be an excuse for mediocrity," Draco said. "We founded that Department, Granger. I won't stand for mediocrity."

By wordless agreement, they all got out of the water and got dressed. They all met up in the Bakeshop, hair still wet and wrapped by towels. It also gave Luna the excuse to check over Cailyn's health and not be seen as an overbearing mother-hen.

"We shouldn't do that next time," Hermione complained after warding their table. "I almost drowned. A week with no proper sleep and then a swim in the hot springs? A recipe for drowning, I tell you."

The twins grinned. "Don't worry, Hermione," Luna assured her, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent a thrill of dread through Hermione. "I would have caught you. I'm a healer, you know."

Draco, to finish that off, added, "And if Lovegood caught you too late and your lungs filled with water, there was an old, retired soldier in my side of the bath. He would have done you a favor."

Hermione spluttered and both of them laughed. It was times like these that made her wonder if Heather had been using her Gift when she pronounced Luna and Draco to be twins, or if calling them twins made them act as such.

Ugh, it was like that question about the chicken, the egg and which came first.

* * *

It was only two days before Cailyn went to Heather's office, carrying Ciaran while Aedan toddled after her, his hands buried in Fenny's fur.

"My lady?" Cailyn asked hesitantly. "You took care of Ciaran while I was asleep, right?"

Knowing where it was going, Heather nodded reluctantly.

"Was he – ah – quiet with you?" she pressed.

The word Cailyn probably wanted to say was  _unnatural_  but Heather quashed that traitorous thought. Cailyn wasn't as weak as Aunt Petunia that she burned with jealousy at what she couldn't have.

Heather managed a smile. "He was quiet. I had to remind myself that he was there, sometimes."

Cailyn still looked anxious. "Is that – Has that ever happened in your world?" she asked.

Despite the odd phrasing of it, Heather knew what she meant. This was the crux of the matter.

"There are reports of child prodigies," Heather hastily said, thanking Merlin for Discovery Channel and all other informative shows she sneaked a look at as a girl. "It sometimes happens but nobody really knows why."

Cailyn finally relaxed, her fingers unconsciously playing with Ciaran's hands. Heather took that as a good sign.

"But," she continued, still sounding confused. "How do I raise a  _prodigy_?" Her tongue nearly tripped over the new word. "Ciaran is going to be smarter than Aedan was at his age."

Heather would have beamed at her if it wasn't so serious. This here was the reason why Guiomer had chosen Cailyn. She was really a brilliant woman and she had  _sense._

"You'll have to watch yourself around him," Heather said instead. "He's going to pick things up faster than usual and he's going to follow whatever you do. And I think he's going to get bored easily so I'll commission Enid to make a puzzle box for him."

Cailyn unwound further and finally managed a smile, however small. "You always know the answer to everything, my lady," she sighed.

A chair was transfigured into a cot and Cailyn gratefully set down Ciaran. Aedan looked annoyed for a moment and then he set himself up to climb the side of it. Cailyn looked worried but since Heather kept an eye on the child, didn't say anything.

"How has everything been?" Heather asked. "We didn't get a chance to talk before Guiomer snatched you."

Cailyn turned a little pink. "Everybody's been so happy!" she exclaimed. "Why, I earned twice as much this week than I do in a month! And Guiomer, that silly thing, has two of his soldiers following me."

Heather barked out her laughter. She used a teacup to hide her face but Cailyn turned an even darker shade of red.

"It's not funny," she said, though her tone wasn't seriously offended. If anything, she sounded  _pleased._  "And if it isn't soldiers, he pays the  _children_  to do it."

It was sappy and adorable but it was also brilliant. In the first year of their marriage, if Guiomer had done this, Cailyn wouldn't speak to him for a week. Half a decade of marriage had tempered Cailyn's independent streak and Guiomer's protective instincts.

The sudden shiver of the wards had Heather going for the hilt of her sword. At the same time, Aedan stopped whispering to Fenny and went quiet, while Ciaran  _cried_ , prompting Cailyn to fuss over him.

If there ever was a doubt of the boy's magic, it vanished with that. He was sensitive enough to feel the wards.

But Heather had no time to think of that because the Bell tower started ringing.

* * *

 _It was one thing after another,_  Guiomer thought irritably. At least he managed one night of good rest.

"Sir," his captain reported, receiving the message from a boy. "There are about five company's worth of orcs and goblins headed this way. They also brought six mountain trolls with them."

Guiomer gritted his teeth and examined the map. "Has the code been sent out?" he asked while he marshaled his thoughts.

"It's a code Red sir," another captain said. "Lady Gryffon also sent her siblings to the tunnels with the rest of the civilians."

Code Red meant civilians were all evacuated. But with the absence of the others meant a lesser magical support. Because of course, nothing could be easy. Buggering figs. Well, the bridge was going to be crossed when you got there.

"My mother is awakening the statues," he said to his captains. "They will deal with the Mountain Trolls. I want two rows of archers on the wall. The rest will be stationed on the ground. We must protect the tunnels. Everything else can be repaired. I want two platoons in sector nine and another platoon in Sector fifteen."

Guiomer's mind was on a roll and he almost felt lightheaded as his Gift responded from time to time, prodding him on where to put the other company's. "The wall has a weak area, that's in Sector twelve. I want one company there. Belay that, a company and two extra platoons. Company seventeen, can you spare two?"

"Yes sir," the captain nodded as he went to his position.

A tentative voice interrupted his tirade and Guiomer glanced up sharply, appalled.

"Aedan!" he exclaimed. "Why on Arda are you still here?"

There was a mulish tilt to the boy's chin. "It's dark down," he said as though that explained everything. "And I want to help."

A distant part of Guiomer's brain wondered if this was the Potter stubbornness and heroism coming through. If it was, it came at a bad time. Mainly though, he knew that he couldn't dissuade his son. No Potter could have their minds changed once they'd settled onto something.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "You will stay in the Bell Tower and help reload." He went closer and whispered in the boy's ear. "And you and I will have a  _talk_  when this is done,  _James._ "

The use of his real name seemed to have made him realize the gravity of the situation. Aedan straightened and nodded before scampering off.

"Where were we?" he muttered to the five remaining captains who had yet to receive their instructions. The men's faces were sympathetic. "Ah, yes. Company seven and eight shall stay by the wall to provide back up, also, assist the injured and protect the Healers. Company nine, can you spare a platoon?"

"Yes sir," came the reply.

Guiomer relaxed a bit. Sometimes, company's had bad luck and couldn't spare any because they fell behind the hundred fifty minimum requirement. Company thirteen, for example, had a history of bad luck that manifested in illness, bad recruitment and terrible officers. Company nine wasn't quite so bad but it still had its own stories. It was the bane of Guiomer's existence.

"That platoon will stay with Lady Gryffon," he said. "The rest will stay with me."

Everybody snapped into position just as Gryffon came, her usually smiling face grim and hand clenched tight around the hilt of Promise.

"Eilys just sent me word from the tunnels," she said as a greeting. "Everyone is well and accounted for but Aedan is missing."

Reminded of that, Guiomer scowled. "He's in the Bell Tower," he muttered. "He refused to hide." Seeing the look on his mothers face and interpreting it correctly, he continued. "Mater, he's a Potter and a Peverell. Did you honestly expect anything different?"

Really, with all of  _her_ adventures, she couldn't exactly say anything. "Did you really have to assign me a platoon?" she asked instead.

He didn't have time to answer because an orc horn sounded and in response, the Bell Tower started ringing again.

* * *

From his position in the Bell Tower, Aedan could see everything.

"Look around, young Lord," the archer he was assigned to had said. "Later, once those creatures get in range, we will be very busy."

So Aedan looked and was immediately reminded of the chessboard that Uncle Hodur always liked. He always said that the world was a game but this was the first time that Aedan understood that statement.

The wave of orcs and goblins broke against the solid defense of twenty company's like water on a rock. Any opening left was immediately covered by the archers from the wall. The Trolls that could have helped were downed by statues. It was chaos and it was war. The injured were dragged to the Healers tent and reinforcements arrived but the status still hadn't changed. They were winning but not quickly enough not to lose any man. By the time it would end, a lot of soldiers would be lost.

This moved faster when a single platoon broke the ranks and divided the enemy. Everything changed and the war started tipping more obviously in their favor.

"Great Manwe, beloved Valar, please protect our Lady," the archer breathed out behind Aedan.

Aedan wasn't slow. "That's my Avia!" he exclaimed. "But why?"

"We have more numbers than the enemy, so those who fell back can fill in for the missing platoon," the archer explained. "And it's whittling away at their defense. If you are ever divided from your company, young Lord, then you are vulnerable."

It went both ways, Aedan realized as his grandmother's platoon chased after the orcs that started to flee. Their men were lesser too but not quite.

"Serving a platoon under my lady is an honor," the archer said after seeing Aedan's confusion. "She gives you courage, confidence and the strength to never fall. Very few men have ever died serving under her – Holy Varda!"

Whipping around, Aedan saw what made the man so surprised. Another platoon, lesser than the required number, were somehow surrounding the orcs, preventing escape. From the looks of it, it wasn't expected because some soldiers stared.

"The outpost!" someone else remarked. "Those patrolling the merchants road must have been informed."

Aedans eyes were sharper than any and didn't need a telescope. "There's the Brotherhood too," he said, pointing to the Black Banner.

They would have spent the entire thing analyzing anything, but the watch spotted something.

"People, stop dawdling," he barked. "North-northwest, five goblins and five wargs. Headed straight to the tunnels."

The Tower exploded into action and Aedan ran to help the reloading.

* * *

In the end, they lost a hundred and twenty-two men. It was lesser than expected but they also had two company's worth of injured. The Healers and the Brewers were run ragged and Luna had to resort to calling some of her Order members home.

It was a loss and it was a victory. Either way, Luna mourned the absence of some souls and rejoiced in the presence of those still alive.

Some were angry and some were scared. Majorly though, they were grateful to Heather and Guiomer for protecting them. The ones most angry were Hermione and Draco. The attack had come at the wrong time and both of them were sleeping off a weeks accumulated exhaustion, unable to help.

So currently, both of them set about to the country's repairs with a vengeance.

It only took another week for the country to look less like rubble and more like a proper civilization. Most of the damage was to the cities outside the walls but a fair few cracks and burns showed inside as well. Still, a lot of people were displaced from their homes and Heather took it as a personal project to solve and it worried her, so much so that she went about with a permanent crease on her forehead.

Luna just sat back and collaborated with Cailyn and Kreacher to keep everyone fed. The heat of Summer had completely waned and all the leaves of the trees were turning colors. Autumn was well underway. With how disorganized everything was, there was a chance that by Winter, everyone would starve. The orcs had trampled through the farms and nobody was hunting  _anything_  to replenish the Cold Stores.

Sometimes, Luna wondered how people managed without her.

* * *

Heather's visions grew darker and darker. It gave her less sleep and she buried herself by making the Cleansing stones, summoning impure crystals from the Earth and imbuing the runes of cleansing she carved on it with magic. These, she kept sending to the Brotherhood and the Order, but still they kept giving it away to help villages. In a way, that helped to slowly remove the advancement of the evil that took over the hearts of men.

However, nothing helped with regards to her precognition and she stopped removing her dragon-hide gloves and her scarf's. The future she kept seeing became riddled with war and the lidless eye wreathed with fire became more frequent.

She had almost gotten ill but willpower and Potter stubbornness made her bear it, and, by the time Aedan turned six, and Faramir had been recalled by his arse of a Father back to Gondor (and he went with all their best wishes and creepily enough, a very serene smile) she had gotten desensitized enough not to vomit at the sight of the Eye.

When Aedan reached Eight years old and Ciaran was four, Heather had gotten used to sleeping  _through_  the nightmarish visions. It was either that or another bout of potions addiction. Neither option was nice but when life gave you lemons, well…

That was when Heather met Legolas again and this time, he was with several of his Brethren, a handful of the Dunedain, Aragorn and Gandalf the Grey.

* * *

**The Welcome of a prodigal son**

Boromir paced the hall as he waited for his brother to arrive.

He remembered, all those years ago, when he stormed out of the country to race to his brothers' side. He had not considered that the wardens were nicer than anybody could ever conceive and were amusing his brother with knowledge.

Now, with his brothers' return, he expected change to occur. He knew that Faramir thought him oblivious to how…different those siblings were but he noted it. He saw and did not say anything. He knew that whatever  _they_ would teach him, it would make his brother better and would probably infuriate his father to Kingdome come. Those siblings were special that way.

The whinny of a horse and the  _clip-clop!_ of hooves on the courtyard alerted him to his brothers arrival and Boromir rushed outside.

"I'm home," said the stranger, because  _there_  sat someone else in his brother's clothes and wearing his brothers sword. But a shift in the saddle and suddenly there was a  _change_  in his perception. This  _was_  his brother, except he had grown even more and settled into it. Previously, being with Faramir was like being in the presence of old Princes. But this Faramir had grown bulkier and with a king-like presence that just made him  _impossible_  to ignore.

"Welcome home," Boromir found himself saying and he realized that he meant it.

The familiar stranger smiled and he became even more recognizable. Time and distance had not changed his brother's smile.


	36. Exhausted faces and abused magics

Aragorn stared in horror at his old friend, who he hadn't seen in nearly half a decade or so.

Beside him, Legolas was very still, the precursor to extreme violence that the elf usually indulged in the case of a bad temper. Gandalf - bless him - spoke for all of them. A good thing, because Aragorn didn't trust himself to speak at the moment.

"Gryffon, my dear," Gandalf said mildly. "You look terrible."

The Lady in question barked out a laugh. Though her hair still shone and was well cared for, her skin was ashen pale, nearly gray and her green eyes shone with a feverish light, ringed with dark circles.

"I told you, my friend," Gryffon said. "The abilities we received are all double-edged. A gift and a curse."

Legolas finally stirred and Aragorn exhaled a little. He had only known the elf for a handful of months but he knew that Legolas's temper was something that shouldn't be bottled, or revealed in an enclosed area.

"So," she continued. "What brings you gentlemen here?"

Aragorn did not even know. He was annoyed with the Mithrandir for being so cryptic. He was told to meet via messenger bird in Haven City, Saldia within a week. The wizard arrived in their meeting place with a handful of Mirkwood elves and no further explanations, only that Lady Gryffon could help them search for the Dark Lord's complete defeat.

"A few years ago," Gandalf said. "You gave me a clue for the completion of the quest that the Valar sent me. It took me years but I finally put together everything."

Gandalf's explanation was long as it was historical. It started with Isildur and the abandonment of the One Ring and it ended – strangely enough – with Bilbo Baggins.

At the end of it, Gryffon's expressive face was distraught.

"So that's what that vision meant!" she exclaimed. Gandalf gave her a look of query and she expounded. "Years and years ago, before we created Saldia, I met Bilbo Baggins. He asked me to tell his future and I saw a life lived full of adventure. But at the end of it, I saw a great lidless eye wreathed in a ring of fire."

There was a shocked silence.

"I have long since wondered," she continued conversationally as though she had not just revealed several things of great importance. "Why an unassuming fellow like that one would have such an eye watching him."

Legolas spoke for the first time. "Your gift could see that far?" he asked.

"It's already been prophesied," Gryffon grouched. "I didn't even need to exert effort. The Dark Lord has been destined to awaken and grow in power, just as he is destined to be defeated." She took a deep breath and expelled it, holding the bridge of her nose. "So what can I do?"

Gandalf nodded decisively. "Precognition is not one of my abilities, though I do have intuition. I need to find the creature Gollum. You have already confirmed my theories but the enemy may get the information of the One Ring's location from him."

Gryffon's eyebrows rose. "As I have said, my friend. My gift is now a curse in these dark times. My visions usually come unbidden and all of it are dark. My son, however, may be of better use to you. His gift is weaker than mine but that gives him a better control of it."

At their affirmative, a messenger was sent to fetch Guiomer while Gryffon unfurled a map of Middle Earth. It was unbelievably detailed, with little scales on the sides.

Aragorn inched closer. "That looks accurate," he remarked. "Who drew that?"

For the first time since they arrived, Gryffon smiled sincerely. It softened the sharp lines of exhaustion on her face and revealed her incredible beauty.

"Would you believe that Eilys drew it?" she asked, mirth in her voice.

"I would have though it would be Enid!" Aragorn exclaimed.

Gryffon laughed merrily. "I know!" she exclaimed. "But Enid has no sense with maps. Her side of the family was always good with books."

A knock came from the door and a colorful head poked through. "Mater?" he asked. He caught sight of her guests and his eyes went wide.

* * *

Guiomer's eyes were unfocused but his hands were sure as he traced the map.

"Here is where he is," his fingers pointed. His audience watched avidly. "His mind is a mess. He is seeking his treasure like a hound. For a span of two weeks, he will decide to roam in this area – " a circle drawn " – but that has a chance of changing."

His green eyes blinked once, before looking at Gandalf. "It's a really uncertain mind. He doesn't exactly make logical decisions, or even rational ones. Its all instinct."

Behind him, his mother nodded. "Why don't we have Aedan accompany them in their search for the creature?"

Guiomer's immediate instinctive reaction was a resounding  _No!_  But the commander in him knew it was a good suggestion.

Aedan, without any delay, had joined the Brotherhood once the requisite number of years his mother required of him was done. Two years into his training and his hair had suddenly bloomed colors. At the same time, he started predicting things. Small things but predicting them nonetheless.

Testing it revealed it to be a smidge bit more powerful gift than his father, but his mother's blood shielded him from the more adverse effects of the gift.

Guiomer could practically  _smell_  his mothers envy. In any other moment, he would have laughed at her, or probably poke fun. But recently…

Right, getting back on topic. Searching for the creature Gollum whose mind was clouded with so much insanity that there was absolutely  _no way_  to predict his movements beyond two weeks.

In a moment, Aedan's face flashed into his mind, mischievously taking advantage of situations, nearly abusing his gift. It hadn't gotten to that point yet – note  _nearly_  – but it was getting there. However, gifts as powerful as theirs weren't meant to be used that way. That was almost like using the sword of Gryffindor as a nail file.

"I suppose," he gave in with a sigh. "It would be good training for him. But Cailyn's going to  _fuss_  and  _mope_."

His mother gave him a tired smile and her eyes shone with pride, making him feel a lot better.

.

.

.

NO,  _he did not have a mother complex!_

* * *

Theodred sheathed his sword with a scowl.

His opponent, Grimbold, said nothing. Theodred has been scowling a lot more recently, and even his cousins are liable to only get sighs.

"One more go, my prince?" Grimbold asked.

Theodred shook out his fingers. "No," he said. "I need to meet up with Fearghal. Give my excuses to my father."

Grimbold's eyes are dark and inscrutable. He knew that Grimbold was personally loyal to him and didn't worry. Grimbold was obsessive like that. He probably knew exactly what time Theodred woke up and what he ideally liked for breakfast.

"Shall I also make excuses for your cousins, my prince?" he asked instead of prying. Theodred's lungs expanded as he released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Please," he answered with a nod.

Theodred didn't run to the Brotherhood building in the outskirts of Edoras, but it was a near thing. It's easily the biggest building in the capital, perhaps even bigger than the Goldenhall of his ancestors. He expected that when it was built. This was founded by Saldia, after all.

By the foot of the stairs, he met Eowyn and Eomer, sharing a ration bar as they trade knife-throwing tips. She was wearing the official uniform of the Women's League – a pearl gray colored dress that was designed for maneuverability. Eomer was clad in the uniform of the Rohirrim, which really wasn't much different from Theodred's own armor.

"Cousin," Eowyn greeted him first.

Pleasantries could wait. The window of opportunity was growing smaller the more he delayed.

"Is Fearghal inside?" he asked instead.

She nodded and together, they entered. Theodred's stomach was squirming as he met Fearghal's blue eyes.

.

.

.

Because what they were planning was treason and they could all be executed if it fails.

* * *

It was the little things that first clued them in but Eowyn agreed that it was only when King Theoden no longer practiced sparring for three days straight that cemented their fears.

After Lady Gryffon's gifted them with a training manual on how to train people to their maximum potential, and keep it that way, nobody ever skipped a spar three days in a row. Muscle mass was generated through hard work and continuous repetition. For her Uncle to do that meant something was deeply wrong with him.

Once their doubts were banished, they started to notice even the most miniscule of slips, like how King Theoden's eyes would close whenever Theodred entered the room, or how his preferences of meat were suddenly changed.  _He would never do that!_

But by then, it was getting to be too much because King Theoden started  _degrading_  right in front of their eyes, and it wasn't just because of lack of exercise either.  _Something_ was eating him from the inside.

"Something is influencing him," her cousin said angrily. " _That_ is not my father."

Eomer nodded. "We already know that. But who could it be? I have my suspicions on Grima Wormtongue," he said.

Eomer always was suspicious of Grima ever since Eomer caught him in Eowyn's room when she was bathing. Thank Varda for the curtains.

Fearghal shook his head. "No. That is the kind of thing that needs appropriate skill. I take it Grima never showed any outstanding talent for herbs, potions or sorcery?" he asked.

Eowyn really appreciated Fearghal's levelheadedness. That was probably because of his training in the Brotherhood, coupled with the fact that he had been one of the last people to be personally taught by Lady Enid. Or maybe because he was the Brotherhood commander for the Branch in Rohan.

"He's a worm," Eomer spat out. "Whose only talent is his tongue and he uses it to get whatever he wants. A coward and a  _pervert_."

The last word was said with such venom that Fearghal flinched.

"My cousins prejudice aside," Theodred interrupted. "I do not think Grima has any remarkable talents. It may be that he is only working for whoever is slowly killing my uncle."

Fearghal sighed. "Magic and Sorcery it is then," he said softly. "But that is beyond me, or any of the Order's healers to cure. I will send my lady a message."

Eowyn felt her eyes growing wide even as her spine unconsciously straightened. Beside her, she could see her cousin and her brother doing the nearly the same thing.

They had skirted around the idea of asking Lady Gryffon. When they first encountered the problem, asking her felt like whacking an ant with a giant mallet. However, now that the problem had grown and it was already an appropriate thing to ask her, they still were hesitant to ask.

Whether it was for advice or for help, asking the Lady was something that felt like a last resort, when all means had failed.

And still, Eowyn did not know why.

.

.

.

_(Or maybe because, once Lady Gryffon helps, she gives it her entire soul and seeing her over-exert herself would be painful.)_

* * *

Cailyn, predictably, fretted.

Luna watched the proceedings with amused eyes and waited until Aedan finally ran off to pack his bags before she started to talk and distract the poor mother.

It worked for a moment. And then Aedan came back, carrying his saddlebags and kissing his mother goodbye.

Cailyn promptly burst into tears. Luna gave it up as a lost cause.

"Nice try," Hermione said. "But it won't work for Cailyn. She's too worried. She's a bit like Guiomer in that aspect."

Luna sighed and would have started moping too but Draco, who had been nursing a cup of tea, suddenly started another topic.

"I managed to cross-breed that weed you were complaining about," he said. "It's a bit like papyrus now. We can finally do that newspaper you wanted, Granger."

Hermione lit up. Even Luna did, given that her father had been the editor for the Quibbler.

"I vote for no sensational stories," Heather said as she slid into her seat. "All articles must have their facts checked."

"Hear, hear," he said. Draco's family had been a target of such sensational stories after the war.

"Where are your guests, feather?" Hermione demanded. "I would have thought we wouldn't see you until tomorrow."

She shrugged. "Gandalf wanted to hurry," she explained. "Because of Aedan's age and because their prey had finally crossed the Gap of Rohan."

The topic returned to the newspaper and what would get published. Luna signaled Fenny to fetch parchment and ink. She took notes as they started to divide the paper into sections.

"We'll probably have an entire section devoted to adverts," Hermione said. "I didn't even know about that restaurant until Cailyn took me there."

Draco hummed in thought. "Let's hire someone to do half the paperwork for this though."

Heather suddenly grinned and Luna sat up straighter at the sight. She was no longer bored.

"Let's post in one page that we will accept all questions and publish the question and the answer. It can be addressed to either of the four of us," Heather chirped merrily.

Draco and Hermione stared at her in horror.

"Merlin no!" he burst out. "We just pawned off all our paperwork to other people and you want to do that again?"

Hermione had a different concern. "That nearly violates your own Charter," she pointed out. "What if someone crosses the line?"

Here, Luna just had to speak up. It wasn't fair on Heather to take all the heat. It wasn't a bad idea, really.

"That's just it," she said. "The Charter is a bit stifling, Mione. For those who are not used to it, I mean. This will clear all their doubts and questions without violating the Charter. They are  _asking_ , you see? And it is up to us whether to answer or not."

Grudgingly, the idea was accepted and Luna allocated five pages for it. Heather simply beamed.

* * *

Four nights later, a messenger hawk arrived in Saldia, bearing the personal crest of Theodred while miles away, in the Shores where the Corsairs of Umbar dwelled, the Orb of Ar-Pharazon, memento of the Golden King of Numenor, shattered.

And the darkness that flitted around the edges of Saldia, suddenly grew stifling.

* * *

Deleted Scenes:

Scene 1:

**Denethor's Surprise**

Boromir watched worriedly as his brother and his father met again, for the first time since that Valar-accursed exile.

Faramir, with that strange grace, bowed to their father. He made it look like he was mocking the man seated on the Stewards chair. Boromir couldn't exactly pinpoint what though.

It was obvious that Denethor knew it too, by the vein throbbing on his forehead. But with everybody watching, he couldn't exactly yell at Faramir. Boromir breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm home, father," Faramir said. "It is good to see you again."

Denethor smiled through gritted teeth. "You as well, my son."

An image suddenly came to Boromir's mind, that of two wolves prowling and marking territory. He shook it off and continued watching, fingers dancing on the hilt of his sword for some comfort.

"Let us hope," Denethor continued. "That your time away has at least taught you some measure of control over your impulses."

Boromir's neck tingled with danger. He suddenly knew that his father had stepped on something delicate.

Faramir smiled pleasantly at their father. "Of course father," he said softly and evenly. It still sounded like a thousand knives hovering in the air, no matter what. "All my impulses have been trained. My mind, my body and my spirit, tested when I went away. How have you been?"

 _How have you been_ sounded more like,  _Have you curbed your impulses as well?_  All the nobles listening knew it too, by the smirks showing up.

Double-edged words and political training. Just  _what_  have his brothers hosts been teaching him?

The subtlety flew over Denethor's head. "I would have been better if you didn't misbehave. Your brother needed your help here," he grouched instead.

Oooh, Manwe. That insinuated that the exile was entirely Faramir's fault. Boromir's hand clenched on the hilt of his sword.

Faramir was still smiling. "Ahh, I'm sure it wasn't all that bad, father. After all, Boromir is capable. You taught him, after all," he said.

Boromir's back straightened even as he felt himself smiling. That was a very well done answer. It insulted Denethor for any of Boromir's conceived failings, all of which Denethor had complained about.

But really, both of them going at it minutes into seeing each other set a dangerous precedent for all future meetings. Boromir rubbed his temples. He could feel a migraine growing.

* * *

Scene 2:

**Finding the Ritual for jumping worlds**

Hermione found it by accident.

Being cooped up in Grimmauld place was for  _months_  was enough to drive someone batty and even if Kreacher had done an admirable job cleaning and returning things to perfection, it was still too… _cave-like_  for someone who had spent the better part of the previous year running in forests. Open space, or even a garden would have been brilliant, but nooo, it was a bloody  _safehouse._

So she turned to the library. ("When in doubt, turn to books!" "Shut up, feather!") and distracted her mind. Her mind was really a terrible disadvantage when she was bored. She didn't have a very vivid imagination but all the things she had experienced didn't make nice examples of distraction either.

But still, there was only so much one can read. And yes, that really happened to her too. Especially since there were only a handful subjects that the Black Library really focused on. (The only handful of interesting books she found were clearly from Regulus Black and Kreacher looked like he would have waged war if she tried touching it.) That's when she found it.

The shelves of the library went until five shelves and for someone with Hermione's height, that isn't very easy. The chair she was standing on wobbled for a minute or two and then she finally crashed, skidding through the floor and banging her head on a wooden figuring of an angel that was affixed at the bottom of another bookshelf.

There was a click and a hidden staircase suddenly descended almost immediately on top of her head.

Head ringing, Hermione climbed the wooden stair and found a book. The rest, as they say, is history.

* * *

Scene 3:

**A moment with Draco**

The end of the war didn't make any spectacular changes in Draco's life. His father was still absentee and his mother was still flighty. People still hated him and he still had to hurry shopping.

Except…maybe he is deluding himself.

His father was absentee because he was blasted to pieces by Molly Weasley. His mother was flighty – never there – because she was six feet under, tormented to death by his father's own colleagues.

He avenged his mother by killing everybody who did it and escaping with Potter, leaving his Aunt Bella alive to explain what happened to the Dark Lord. It was sweet that Potter told him he could hear her screaming under the Dark Lord's cruciatus through their mental connection.

Of course, people had hated him before the war because he was a snobby, rich, spoiled prat. After the war, people still hated him because he was a snobby, rich, no-longer-so-spoiled  _asshole_.

Whatever possessed Potter to take him in like another one of her strays was something he will never know. (The adjective,  _stray_ , is rather apt especially after Lovegood arrived. Merlin curse it!)


	37. A Glimpse into the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commemorating 1,000 reviews in fanfiction.net

_Ciaran didn't approve of his brothers ill-tempered state._

_Ever since Avia and her siblings left Saldia, Pater started working longer and longer hours. He asked his Mater and knew that Pater missed Avia very much. Wait just a bit, she said, and he will adjust._

_Aedan didn't know that and it was probably_ hormones  _were kicking in, though if it was, it was a bit late, so he frequently went over the walls and grabbed the sword of Gryffindor to whack some wolves and stray trolls with. That usually didn't work because ever since the Dark War, the orc population was decimated._

_Ciaran, being the kind and understanding brother, followed just to keep him out of trouble. (Though, if you asked Aedan, he was just being an annoying sibling.)_

_This time around, however, Ciaran had a legitimate reason to disapprove._ That _was a bloody big troll._

" _How in Arda did you find that?" he asked his brother, aghast._

_Aedan grabbed his brothers shirt and jumped back expertly. The bright colors in his hair only highlighted how much he looked like their father at the moment._

" _Stop talking," Aedan whispered. "That one looks blind so its probably got good ears."_

_Oh right, but he didn't know that. Aedan was the one who wanted to follow fathers footsteps. Ciaran wanted to follow Aunt Enid, or maybe Uncle Hodur._

_The skirmish with the troll seemed like it lasted as long as forever and ended in under a minute._

_Aedan had dragged him to a safer distance and was doing his best to take down the troll through magic, daggers and knives. Ciaran didn't understand why Aedan just didn't use the sword of Gryffindor. Bloody hell, it was an_ enchanted sword _. Enough said._

_Only, his stupid noble brother went at it with those meager weapons as best as he could. And then his knives shattered along with his hand._

_Well, his hand really didn't shatter but that's how it looked like to Ciaran. Whatever it was said about him., he head the Potter luck, the stubbornness and that insane heroic streak. So he ran to his brother and tried to help, even if he had no idea how. His only weapon was the dagger Uncle Hodur gave him for his thirteenth birthday that he used to harvest potions ingredients. The troll was definitely bigger – and tougher – than any potion ingredient._

"Get away _!" he yelled at the lumbering thing that was getting closer and closer to his brother. Aedan, the neurotic little thing that he was, placed him quite far so the troll really was closer than Ciaran was._

 _Aedan finally mustered the pain and was standing up. His unbroken arm – not his sword arm, unfortunately – scrabbled for the sword of Gryffindor and finally,_ finally _unsheathed it. It rang with a sharp and deadly promise that would have made other people pause. The troll was too arrogant or too stupid to do so._

_His stance was ridiculous and the angle of his arm was awkward. Aedan was breathing too heavily and too erratically. It didn't do his position any favors._

" _Get back," the idiot said. Then he jumped and slashed down._

 _Coincidentally – or maybe he planned it? – Aedan managed to disembowel the troll. He was still covered in troll guts and other_ disgusting _stuff but at least it was finally down._

" _You idiot!" Ciaran yelled when he was finally beside his brother. "You bloody – " he bit his tongue because Aedan was swaying where he kneeled. "Hey, frater," he whispered. "Pull yourself together!"_

_It was a bit of a bind because the bruises added with the broken arm was pushing his brother to an exhausted sleep. But they were too far from the city to ask any sort of help. Aedan really had impressive tantrums but this one was working against his favor._

" _Bugger," he cursed. "Avia, Amita Eilys, give me the strength to do what I must for my brother." He used the formal term, hoping it would lend his words some strength. Half the spells they learned originated from Latin, after all._

_It seemed to have worked because both of them were transported with a crack! to a large and comfortable sitting room. It had a crackling fire and some food. More importantly, there were bandages and some potions._

_Ciaran pushed aside worry and started working. He may not have proper education in healing but every child in Saldia knew at least how to splint broken bones. It was only the work of a moment to send up another prayer to the great-aunt that was a healer and he aligned the broken bones –_ successfully _._

_By Merlin, praying to them might have some good._

_He still had to force feed his brother some potions then he raced around, looking for pillows and blankets to cover him. He was much too heavy to move._

_That was when he found four portraits in what he knew was a library and Ciaran forgot all about the sleeping lump._

" _Avia?" he asked after swallowing to get his throat working. "Amita, Patruus…"_

_As though Ciaran's voice was a key, the sleeping portraits woke with a jerk and after looking around with some disorientation, found him staring at them with awe._

" _Oh, it's Ciaran!" one of them remarked._

 _Then, they all_ smiled _at him, even Uncle Hodur, and it was like coming home._ This  _was worth that troll, he thought dazedly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he found the four portraits in the Sanctuary. Lots and lots of clues in this one.
> 
> Aedan didn't want to draw the sword immediately because of what Guiomer told him, "This is not a toy. Use it wisely and for a good purpose." He didn't want to draw it because of a mishap with a temper tantrum.


	38. Different Problems, One Solution

Ever since her visions turned to nightmares, Heather had become blind to the far future.

While that didn't affect her much, it meant that her extra activities lessened considerably. She had to rely on letters and owls from people and then busying herself by poking her nose in country affairs. Her government officials had all become used to her restless days and just rolled their eyes and sighed. There was a rumor that they reserved budget problems and really tricky proposals for her, but Heather was sure that was just a rumor…right?

Ciaran managed to distract her by pestering her for sword tricks that he solemnly watched and tried to imitate – with an unnerving amount of success. Most of the time, however, Ciaran usually pestered Luna or Draco and that left Heather alone and  _bored_.

A bloody dangerous state, Draco would say.

Once, she'd almost caused a riot among the merchants by gossiping in the market about new, possible embargo's to be applied to Gondor – which while not completely true, did have a grain of truth in it.

But that was besides the point.

The point was that Heather mainly focused her boundless energy on Guiomer, Aedan and the government. When that was settled, she still had those extra activities to keep her happy and occupied. The removal of one of her main foci, along with the absence of the little things made her  _really_  restless.

Draco recognized the signs, especially after Hermione and Luna kicked her out of the planning for the newspaper when it became clear that while managing a country was somewhat of a natural talent for Heather, she had absolutely no clue when it came to managing a newspaper business. That had made his mind wander to a contingency plan he'd created especially for moments like these, an entire box full of Ancient Runes puzzles to occupy her mind with, when the letter came.

He could practically feel their small family exhale in relief.

"I feel terrible for being relieved," Guiomer confessed to him as they watched Heather pack her bags and argue with Kreacher at the same time. "But if she had stayed for a week more without Aedan to tutor, she would have caused a riot in Tabernia City."

Just to be contrary, Draco said, "Of course you're terrible." Guiomer shot him an exasperated look and he continued dryly with, "Their King is probably being possessed or dosed with a slow acting poison and you're acting  _relieved._ "

While Guiomer sighed and walked off to look for a more sympathetic person, Draco rolled his eyes and had to wonder at whatever made Guiomer think that he would make soothing noises and assure Guiomer of his humanity.

At second glance, maybe the brat was sleep-deprived. He'd gone to  _Luna_. Did he forget Luna's unbelievably blunt truth telling?

The point was proven when Guiomer walked away from the encounter with a more pronounced slouch of depression.

Draco looked back to the spectacle in front of him. Heather and Hermione were now arguing which book to bring in case she ever needed to refer to one.

Feeling very put upon and unappreciated, Draco interrupted. "She could always summon Kreacher for whatever reference material she needs, Granger," he said. The argument tapered off to embarrassed silence. Draco determinedly plowed on. "And stop that ridiculous care package you're making, Kreacher. Potter needs to hurry. The longer she delays, the deeper that thing roots into King Theoden."

Heather laughed, shameless as always while Hermione blushed with embarrassment.

* * *

Theodred's letter was very  _very_  urgent. That didn't mean that Heather should be rash.

Her intuition, which she relied more and more ever since her precognition got clouded over with nightmares, had prodded her to go to Draco.

At first, it had bewildered her when it had first happened. Now though, she just took it in stride.

Her shock was understandable, Heather thought as she walked. She prided herself on knowing most of everything in Saldia, but she didn't know  _anything_  of what Draco had been doing.

Draco had given the Order and the Brotherhood members instructions to send him notes and messages that they considered noteworthy or important. This resulted in Draco having a better grasp of things outside of the country than anyone else, even Meiran, who was in charge of Foreign affairs. (They didn't have to obey Draco, but they just humored him until it became a habit to send something to him.)

"Draco," Heather said, poking her head through his door. "I'm going to Edoras, Rohan. Do you have anything for me?"

The man in question was perusing his papers and journals  _blindfolded_. His gift had evolved as hers had deteriorated with the onslaught of darkness.

"Border patrol has intensified," he said. "The only ones who can enter are people from the Brotherhood, the Order and the Women's League. Anyone who cannot speak in Rohirric will be viewed with suspicion."

Oh, of course their people could speak Rohirric. It had become somewhat of a part of their Basic Lessons course with the amount of merchants and tourists that passed by Saldia, along with the amount of children that greeted them.

The knowledge of Rohirric was thanks to Prince Theodred. Not just anybody could speak that language. For anybody else, the border patrol had tightened.

Heather blinked at him several times. "Bugger. I'll need a color-changing potion then," she said. "Do you have some in stock? My hair is rather distinctive, you know."

Draco gave her a look that was no less effective because his eyes were covered. "Am I the sort that keeps that around?" he demanded. "I'm not a potions shop, Potter!"

Heather stifled a grin as she ran out. His temper really had been getting worse. One of her more reliable visions had told her that he would get better once Sauron was defeated.

She hoped it was soon. That Dark Lord was taking a toll on all of them.

* * *

Aedan was assigned to the care of Prince Legolas.

It was a rough and dangerous terrain, and it really was no place for a boy of eleven. If it wasn't for his blood and how much his relatives loved the wild, he would have gotten ill, or caused someone an injury of some sort within the first day.

As it was, Legolas merely said, "You have a remarkable sort of patience for your age."

Hah!

Aedan wanted to say that having Ciaran as a younger brother required a remarkable sort of patience. The little brat wanted to know  _everything_.

He bit his tongue and just smiled.

Every night, he was given the most accurate map of the wilds and he had to use his gift to check the progress of their capture of the creature Gollum. It didn't give him the headache it gave his father, nor did it give him nightmares like his grandmother. It just gave him a tingling at the back of his neck and the really strong urge to sneeze.

"We're getting really close," he finally said the long awaited words to his fellow travelers. "Tomorrow, he's going to pass by that stream. We'll just have to ambush him."

There was a susurrus of pleasure and everybody settled down to prepare for the next day's exertion. Lindel, one of the more friendlier elves, started to sing and then there was an entire chorus of humming elves.

The vision happened as the song was ending. Perhaps that was how Avia always felt when confronted with a vision? Aedan didn't know. All he knew was that it was  _awful_  to watch.

The vision showed midday, and a sudden cry of "orc scouts!". Lindel, the beautiful, kind elf, was the first to fall. His face was eaten by the warg that was mounted by an orc. It was fast paced and brutal. They lost half of their party, but the scouts went down eventually. The stench of the dead was overwhelming.

Aedan came back to the present with a shudder, tears wetting his cheeks and making it sting with every blow of the cold air. He found himself situated far from the camp, hair being softly patted by Legolas and hands anxiously rubbed by Aragorn. Only the both of them were there, the rest of the part was politely pretending to be blind, deaf and oblivious.

"Are you alright now?" Aragorn asked. "The vision has ended?"

Aedan nodded, unable to bring himself to speak because if he unclenched his teeth, he knew he would start wailing for his father.

"I'm glad," he continued. "If any harm had come to you, I'm not sure I could survive your grandmother's sword."

Legolas's soft voice interrupted. "Was that your first vision that came unbidden, Aedan?" he asked.

Aunt Enid's lessons on controlling one's emotions helped Aedan master himself. He managed to answer, "No. but they are usually short and nothing so…brutal." Visceral would have been a better adjective but Aedan didn't even want to think of what images he would associate with that word.

Both men were firm and no-nonsense. It helped Aedan's nerves immensely. He even managed to tell them of the orc scouts that would possibly ambush them by midday the next day.

Gandalf just watched and worried.

* * *

Eomer met Lady Gryffon in the street and nearly didn't recognize her, if it weren't for  _Promise_  strapped on her belt.

It wasn't because she was wearing the loose, comfortable gray clothes of the Women's League. Nor was it because of the bow and quiver strapped to her back – because really, the idea of the Lady behind a bow is terrifying. There are  _stories_  of how bad her aim could get with it.

No, truly it was because the Lady's multi-colored hair had gone and turned into flaxen blonde. The kind of blonde that was prominent in Rohan.

His mind blanked out for two minutes. That was excuseable too because in her old coloring, she looked exotic, beautiful and utterly unattainable. In her new blonde coloring, she looked just like a native from Rohan, with a foreign ancestor or two because of the eyes and the delicate bone structure of her face. And he was half-tempted to ask for her bride price.

Eomer regained his senses within another two beats and hastily kicked down that idea.

He was  _not_  suicidal, no matter what the Dunlendings say.

"My lady," he stammered out. "W-welcome to Edoras."

Gryffon's eyes were amused and Eomer thanked Manwe that she could not read minds. "I am well, and I do admire what Theodred has done to this place," she answered back in perfect Rohirric.

Eomer grinned. "I'll be sure to tell him that! My lady, how did you change the color of your hair?" he just had to ask.

She laughed. "As spontaneous as ever, Eomer. My brother Hodur has a dozen potions to change ones features," she said merrily.

They chatted as they headed towards the Brotherhood branch at the outskirts of Edoras. That was also how long it took for Eomer to notice how… _wasted_ …she looked.

"My lady," he said bluntly. "I hate to say this, but you look terrible."

Gryffon laughed long and hard. "Oh, Eomer," she chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye. "I have never met anyone as blunt as you aside from Eilys."

He just shrugged and looked at her. "Gryffon shook her head and patted his shoulder. "I am not ill, dear student. This is just a matter of unavoidable circumstances. This will go away soon," she said.

Fearghal saw her and gave a hasty salute. Theodred stormed in with Eowyn at his heels and the meeting started. The merry and joyful lady he walked with was replaced by the First Lady of Saldia, the stern and capable woman who used to arrange his schedule and pound him to the ground without breaking a sweat.

"When did it start?" she asked. "The state of his eyes. What does his breath smell like?"

The questions poured out and she took all answers like a Healer diagnosing an illness – which she was. Except this was a magical sort of disease.

Finally, she leaned back and sighed, steeping her fingers together and pursing her lips. Theodred nearly sat at the edge of his seat and Fearghal fidgeted in nervous, respectful silence. (Honestly, Eomer could understand the near hero-worship that the Brotherhood gave her. She was strong and beautiful.)

"This is not simple," she said finally, breaking the silence. "But it can be done. I just need your help," she paused. "All of you."

Here, she outlined her plan and, even if half of the things she talked about were completely so technical that he got lost two sentences in, she simplified it, like:

"Theodred, I need you to steal your fathers crown – "

"Eowyn, distract Grima Wormtongue, and no Eomer, you cannot kill him yet – "

"Fearghal, contact your men, prepare one platoon. And get me two healers to assist me – "

"Eomer, can you clear the Goldenhall? This will be messy and I don't want anyone running to the king."

She was like a hurricane, or a really powerful force of nature. Eomer ran to distract all the guards with a sudden weapons check-up and took away all footmen and maids by making the flour explode in the pantry and dying the washing blue.

The Goldenhall was clear and only Grima stayed, but Eowyn took care of that.

The heavy golden crown of their ancestors was removed and Lady Gryffon entered the king's bedchambers with two healers.

The scream that emerged from there raised the hairs at the back of his neck.

* * *

They were little things at first, but to Gandalf's eyes, they were alarming.

At the next day, when the vision came true, except it was not an ambush because they were prepared for it, Aedan flinched at the first charge and he had a hard time looking at any of the elves.

When he checked the map again because they were delayed what with burning the dead bodies, the boy's hands trembled and he went pale.

Small things, yes, but it was becoming clear that Aedan of Saldia had become traumatized and was afraid of his gift.

It was a frightening thing when it was obvious to Gandalf that the family gift was very powerful within Aedan.

"Aedan, may I speak with you for a moment?" Gandalf asked. Said boy looked at him with wide eyes before grinning in a confident way that was a shadow of the boy's old, charming smile that had no fear at all.

"What can I help you with, Gandalf?" he asked politely.

Gandalf's brows furrowed because while he was the most patient Istari, there were some things he had no knowledge of, like interrogating a really young wizard. He decided to go with the blunt approach. It never lost style, after all.

"What did you see," he started. "That made you so frightened of the gifts you have?"

Ah, big mistake. The boy bristled like a cat that had its fur stroked backwards.

"I'm not afraid," he blustered. "I'm just…coming to terms with something."

Gandalf's eyebrows went up. Aedan was  _frighteningly_  like his grandmother. Direct confrontations seemed to go the opposite way and made him even more defensive.

With better understanding, Gandalf tried another tactic. "Did you know why your father allowed you to come on this journey?" he asked, getting the boy's attention. At a shake of his head, Gandalf plodded on. "Because you were abusing your gift."

Stricken silence. Aedan was pale.

"You don't abuse gifts as heavy as yours," he added, looking into the boy's green eyes to make sure he got the point of it. "The future is not something to be trifled with. There's always a price, Aedan, every time you use a gift. Your grandmother cannot sleep long, your father has migraines. What is your price, Aedan of Saldia?"

Aedan took a moment to answer, swallowing several times. "I-I do not know yet. Uncle Hodur said that my mother's blood protects me from the adverse effects of the gift until I reach seventeen. Aunt Enid said that's when my father's blood would get stronger," he said.

Gandalf spared a moment to marvel and wonder what exactly Cailyn's race was before he tucked that errant thought to the back of his mind. Now was not the time.

"Use your gift only to find a third path," he advised. He couldn't do more than that. The rest was Guiomer's duty.

Aedan's eyes were not so frightened anymore and Gandalf felt some measure of success.

* * *

Heather knew it would be complicated.

Theoden's crown was the keystone for the spell, because according to Theodred, he had not seen his father remove the crown. At all. Not since the possession took place. Then, she had to wean the slow acting potions from the man, because Eowyn said that his breath often smelled like thistlegrass. (Heather may not have been a potions master but a quick note to confirm her theories to Draco assured her that Theoden was being potioned into obedience. Otherwise, he'd have fought back.) Lastly, two healers to hold him down – because she couldn't spare even that bit of attention – while she tattooed him with Runes for healing, shielding and strength.

The process wasn't painful. She needed the king held down for when she finally removed the parasite. The absence of the keystone made her job easier. (Heather knew she'd have to completely destroy it, but  _later_.) It was the absence of the parasite and the speedy repairing done by the runes that would hurt.

"By magic's sake," Heather gasped when she finished. "Are you two alright?"

The two healers holding the king down nodded firmly. "Is it done, my lady?" one of them asked.

She shook her head. "It is your turn. I healed him magically but I am no healer. I do not know if I caused him any further damage by what I have done."

They moved at that order, opening their healing kits and examining the slumped over king. Heather fidgeted a bit at the side, worrying if she'd somehow skipped a step and done the king irreparable harm.

"He's well," the woman said. "Just tired. Though…" she trailed off.

Heather gave her a look. "Go on," she demanded.

"May we bandage what you…inked on him, lady? It's bleeding rather heavily," she pointed out.

Ah, the tattoos. "You only need to add anti-inflammatory salves to the bandages," Heather explained.

Heather wanted to collapse and roll over in relief. But there were still other ends to tie. Like Grima Wormtongue and the keystone.

"I'll leave you to it," she told them. "I'll send someone here to sit with him."

Neither of them paid her any attention.

Heather didn't allow anything else to distract her while she apparated to the Brotherhood building. Fearghal saluted and she gave him a smile.

"All is well, my lady?" he asked.

"Yes, all is well. You can now dismiss your men. Thank you, commander," she said. "Can you send Theodred and his cousins to the kings bedchambers? It would not do for the king to wake up alone."

He gave a hasty nod and Heather moved to take care of the crown Theodred stole. In particular, the red gemstone winking at her that was lodged at the back of the crown. It was the size of her pinky finger and obviously  _not part_  of the ctown.

A simple removal (which wasn't really that simple because truly, it seemed to have been welded to the metal), and Heather threw it into the air, followed by a powerful  _Reducto_.

A split-second after she cast, her intuition told her that was a  _really bad idea._

Sheer desperation made her fuel the Elder Wand to manipulate the  _Protego_  to turn into a sphere around the keystone. And not a second too late as well, because the strain on her magic told her how powerful the explosion would have been.

"Oh, Merlin," Heather whispered, legs wobbling as her actions caught up to her. "Oh, Mordred and Morgana. I nearly obliterated Edoras."

The keystone was obviously a trap for someone who might have tried the methods she did.

"Whoever this wizard is," she hissed as anger overtook her fear. "Better not show himself to me soon or else he'd get a piece of my mind."

There was, of course, the method of casting  _legilimency_  and driving the possessor out but that would have left Theoden's mind weak and susceptible to mental manipulations. Heather liked her better; painful, slow yet a permanent cure.

But this trap just ruined her tiny bit of happiness. Screw Grima Wormtongue. Theoden would have to deal with the worm himself!

"My lady?" an Order member asked. "Are you well?"

Heather stood up on firm feet. "No. Where are the training courts? I need to  _maim_  something."

Wide-eyed, the healer scurried to lead her to it.

* * *

Luna was with Hermione when a sort of… _whisper_  happened that caused both of them to look up from their work and frown.

"Did you…feel that?" Hermione asked. Her soul sounded troubled.

Luna's expressive face was wrinkled in distress. "I more than felt it. I  _heard_  it. Something about finding something," she said softly. "I feel unclean, Hermione. That voice was foul."

By unspoken agreement, they packed their papers and tucked it away. They were a bit too disturbed to continue.

"By the way," Hermione said, blatantly changing the subject. "Elladan liked the idea of a newspaper. He wants one copy of every issue sent to him."

Luna mustered up a smile. "That's brilliant, isn't it? It's working exactly like how we wanted it to. Someone might even want to duplicate it," she said.

They headed to the hot springs, still talking. Hopefully, it would be a slow day and no one would eavesdrop. Right, fat chance. This was  _Saldia_.

"We might have to sell the newspaper press," Luna warned. "They can't duplicate newspapers without the press, Hermione. And those special dried reeds you're using as paper."

Hermione shrugged, lulled by the heat of the water and too relaxed to work up any thought to it. "Schematics," she muttered lazily. "I'll cross that bridge when I get there," she said.

Luna laughed a little at how Heather-like that sounded.

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**Elrond getting the news**

Perhaps it was a bit remiss of him, but it took a while for Elrond to notice that one of his twin sons was acting a bit oddly.

Sighing and buying trinkets. Perusing old books in the library. Asking for philosophical debates and such. _And writing so, so many letters._

It was probably the fact that the twins rarely stayed for too long in Rivendell. But that sort of excuse was a bit weak. In fact, they stayed for a longer time in Rivendell than usual because Elladan was  _researching_  something in the library!

Finally, after two months of this… _pattern_  happening, Elrond caved and turned to Elrohir.

"What on Arda has happened to your brother?" he asked.

Elrohir blinked, giving him the expression that spoke,  _Really? You don't know?_

"He's courting, Ada," Elrohir said blankly, as though a bit surprised that he was asking. Of course Elrond was asking! Nobody exactly told him!

This was the trouble of being a well known precognitive. Everybody just expected you to … wait…

"Courting?" Elrond choked. "Truly? Who?"

That same blank look was shot at him. Elrond reigned in the urge to scowl.

"Enid of Saldia," was answered.

Elrond's mind blanked a bit, remembering the fierce, travel-stained lady that had stormed in when Gryffon was tied down in his infirmary. His memory may have been good, but what really stood out to him was how…wildly untamable she seemed.

Elladan was courting  _her_?

Oh, Ulmo!


	39. A Series of Events

_Hermione blinked once, twice and then realized that what she was seeing was real._

_In front of her was Hogwarts, in all its glory. It could have been from any memory and she would have gone with that, except that her eyes were seeing signs of patch-up jobs and hastily done reparo's. Years with Guiomer had made her rather sensitive to reparo spells, especially if they were badly done._

_To seal the deal, her body seemed to be translucent._

_Before she could wonder what that_ _meant_ _, and test it out, somebody just passed beside her, a preoccupied air about him. It was a good thing he didn't pass_ _through_ _her. Hermione didn't want to test how that would go just yet._

_Hermione did a Heather and trailed after him before she could think too much about it. (Because really, thinking too much would get her in serious trouble one day, to quote Luna.)_

_Though…now that she thought about it,_ _why_ _was the young man headed towards Hogwarts when it was obvious that he looked to have graduated long ago? And was his hair color_ _teal?_

" _Teddy Lupin!" a merry voice boomed._

_Reflexively, Hermione grinned at that. Hagrid, barely changed except by the mass of curls braided back. He was proudly wielding a new crossbow and…was that a_ _pink_ _apron?_

_Several theories that she had floating around in her head immediately crossed themselves out. Hermione was still holding out on the idea of a potion-induced hallucination – slash – dream instead of the more logical yet at the same time far-fetched idea of a vision from their old world._

_Hermione Granger, also known as Lady Enid,_ _did not do visions_ _._

_And also, she may have seen Hagrid bake his rock cakes wearing fluffy orange mittens but she had never seen him wear a pink apron with unicorns and yellow dragons frolicking in it._

_Oooh! Scrap that image. Brain error! Brain error!_

_The potion-induced dream was sounding more and more logical._

" –  _have an appointment with the headmaster," the young man was saying. "Is that a new crossbow, Hagrid?"_

_Wait a moment_ _…she thought._

" _Yup," Hagrid beamed. "The centaurs bartered me for some potions. They always make the best ones." He sighed. "Well, I better not keep you long. Headmaster Longbottom is usually busy."_

" _Alright, Hagrid," the young man said with a fond smile. "I'll see you when I'm done."_

" _See you around, young Mr. Lupin," Hagrid waved._

" _Lupin? Longbottom?" Hermione muttered. She watched as Lupin entered the school. Her brain restarted and she hurried after him. "Oh, I have_ _got_ _to see this!"_

_Hogwarts itself was largely unchanged. True, there may have been lesser armors and more batered looking stone gargoyle, but if you ignored that, it looked timeless. She half-expected to see Heather cringing along the hallway, giving cow-eyes at Blaise Zabini._

_It was a bit of a shock though to see Neville seated on Albus Dumbledore's chair._

_The shock was probably because Neville looked aged. The young, battle-scarred face from her last memory of him was matured. The scars were faded, the hair graying and longer. A set of silver spectacles perched on his nose._

" _Headmaster," Lupin greeted. "How may I help you?"_

_Neville smiled and Hermione blinked again. She could see the boy he had been in that smile._

" _Don't be so formal with us, Teddy," he said. "Come and sit with me .How's your time in the obliviators? Hannah told me that she heard rumors that you transferred squads again."_

_Teddy could be seen rolling his eyes. "Why," he whined. "Are you married to a barmaid anyway?"_

_Neville shot him a_ _look_ _and Hermione started. That one was directly ripped off Professor McGonagall. She should know, she got it more often than not, being friends with a trouble-magnet named Heather._

_The young man huffed, even as his teal hair turned brown. "I am fine," Teddy insisted. "You nosy man!"_

_The atmosphere relaxed and they started discussing things. Hermione didn't bother to give her complete attention to it. She allowed her mind to catalogue things and filed it to asses later._

_Her attention was grabbed back at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Relaxed and happy had morphed into sad and melancholic._

" _Bill sent me a copy of the letter from Gringotts," Neville said. "They've declared Heather dead."_

_Teddy's face was a study of sadness, curiosity and strangely, caution. "Oh," Teddy said. "They've opened the vaults then?"_

_Neville sighed, removing his spectacles to run a hand through his face. He looked tired._

" _It was empty, Teddy. That means she left willingly," he exhaled explosively. "I always did wonder where Hermione and Luna went. They probably left together."_

_Teddy's hair cycled through colors and finally settled on a mousy brown. The color seemed to turn Neville's mood even worse when he saw it._

" _So she left before she could be told about me," Teddy whispered. There was a world of what-if's in his voice. "Do you think she would be proud of me Neville?"_

" _Of course, Teddy," Neville said with strong conviction. "Heather loved your father and I am certain she would have loved you too. And what you do may not be something she approves of, she would have been proud of the man you have become."_

_Oh, Hermione thought. This is Professor Lupin's son._

* * *

Hermione woke up and wondered if what she dreamed was true.

After a moments thought, she decided that she would tell the others once things had settled down.

_If it was true…_

Hermione sighed and bowed her head; thinking of that young wizard that looked like he desperately needed the kind of confidence that Heather would have given. Any acquaintance with Heather would give you confidence.

Initially, Hermione became confident because Heather wasn't. Heather  _literally_  needed somebody to be confident for her. Then Heather got better, but her friends still needed confidence because Heather got into scrapes that needed composure to be able to bullshit your way out of.

_Oh, Merlin…_

* * *

Heather's day started with a summons.

Well, it wasn't obviously a summons, the nervous-looking messenger didn't say that quite so blatantly, but he did allude to it with a nervous twitch.

She didn't blame him since Fearghal was looming over her shoulder and being an intimidating little bugger. She had never seen anyone's face drain of color that fast.

Theoden was already turning over the Goldenhall and sending everybody, from the knights to the servants, into a tizzy. As the easily excitable messenger boy told her, the king had turned a delightful red when he'd found half of the knights surrounding his room, heads bowed in grief and some of the servants preparing the funeral flowers.

"And I suppose you were there when he cursed them all to the halls of Mandos?" she asked the brat dryly.

He didn't even need to answer. It was obvious how  _delighted_  the little brat was that he'd witnessed the king being so vulgar.

"It was beautiful," he sighed.

Heather had to breathe hard through her nose in an effort not to laugh.

The messenger really had a very precise way of using his words. The Goldenhall  _bustled_. Servants ran to and fro, looking so harried that they would not have looked out of place in the company of headless chickens, except that they were so  _pleased_  too.

Heather supposed that a possessed king wasn't one to give good orders. All of them must have been  _bored_  to death, and the other half toeing treason in questioning their king's sanity.

Four guards saluted her outside the kings chambers, grins lighting up their faces. While Heather was pretty sure that the king only needed one pair to watch his door, she didn't begrudge them being so protective. It must have been an exquisite sort of helplessness, to watch and be unable to help.

"How's his majesty?" the messenger asked, a smirk on his young, impish face.

One of the guards aimed a kick at his middle, laughing lightly. "Stop hanging around, Merrehelm. The king hasn't sent a maid out in tears for a while now."

As the door closed behind her, Heather heard Merrehelm ask, "It wasn't about the blue washing, was it? Wasn't Lord Eomer responsible for that?"

She had to smother a chuckle.

Theoden was propped up in the bed, somehow managing to look like he was holding court instead of having to hold on to the bed posts in order to stay upright and not lean back to the pillows. Well, he  _was_  holding court. There was one housekeeper, a steward, a general and one other soldier taking notes on a scroll of parchment, all of them surrounding the king.

They should have loomed over him, yet they didn't. He somehow radiated enough presence that the looming didn't happen.

Heather wondered how he did it.

"Theoden, my friend," she greeted him when the stream of instructions stopped and all of them looked at her.

"Lady Gryffon," Theoden said, inclining his head regally.

He gave a sharp gesture and all of them left, leaving the two leaders alone.

Any other person would have been intimidated. Theoden had survived a war, resurfaced scarred yet unbroken. It spoke of something that a contingent of bloodthirsty, horse-riding warriors followed him. His will was formidable, perhaps more formidable than Heathers, given his age.

But Heather had faced down a Dark Lord. She had faced an angry school of wizards in her second year and fourth year. Trolls, orcs and goblins had hardened her.

She was his equal, and both of them knew that.

"I hope you don't think me a hypocrite for telling you," he started. "But you look terrible."

Heather experienced a very acute sense of déjà vu. The evidence of Eomer's and Theoden's kinship showed  _very_  clearly in this moment.

"Eomer said the same thing," she said. "And I wondered how you were related."

Theoden finally smiled and it did wonders to the gauntness on his face. His constitution truly was remarkable, to only come out of a possession with only exhaustion and mild trauma.

Actually…

"You did recover quite fast," she said. "Most people I know don't quite get up from it at all."

A proud look settled on his face, his chin jutting out, eyes brightening. "We are descendants of the Numenor," he stated simply. "And our ancestors were blessed by the Valar."

' _Someday_ ' Heather thought. ' _I really would like to know what that means.'_

"Blessed or not," she said instead. "Do you feel any pain? That was the first time I've ever done it."

Draco would have said, "That makes me feel so much better." Theoden only said, "You did a wonderful job." Then he heaved a heavy gust of air. It was an exhalation of pure exhaustion.

The part of Heather that was the sister of Eilys the Healer, quailed at it. She  _wanted_  to make him lie down, bank the fire and cover him up with blankets.

"What do these symbols mean?" Theoden asked. He did not sound weary despite looking like death warmed over.

Heather sighed, giving up on letting him rest. She respected his resolve to remain a pillar of steadiness for his people. If she called him out on it, she'd be a bloody hypocrite.

"Those are runes, a language my sister studies. It means:  _strength, healing and protection_ ," she answered.

His eyes gleamed. "Thank you, my friend," he whispered. His eyes closed, a gesture of heartfelt relief.

She didn't know if it was because she had kept correspondence with him for years. She only knew that Theoden was so weary and that he was thanking her for more than just removing that parasite from his body and mind.

"Of course, Theoden," she answered even if she was as confused as anything.

Her intuition was silent. Heather wanted to bash her head on something sharp.

Thank Varda Theodred dashed in at that moment, looking so gleeful and happy at seeing his fathers lucid state, even if he was paler than anything and looked like a stiff wind could knock him over.

They both started talking in rapid Rohirric, completely forgetting Heather.

She walked off with a huff, just as the first vision in  _years_  hits her.

It started with a jolt of… _difference_ , like being plunged into cold water, except that wasn't quite so accurate either because it wasn't painful, neither did the temperature change.

She had never tried that with visions, usually they just came and the repercussions came in the form of nightmares for her next sleep. Maybe it was because she had not had a true vision in years.

Nevertheless, she instinctively knew it was a vision and it started with trees.

Big, ancient trees, with branches and leaves so abundant that very little light filtered down the first floor, leaving it a teeming mass of fertilizer composed of dead leaves and other things.

Goblins and orcs marched, trampling through what little grew underneath. No trolls, none would fit between the trees and they would be easy pickings.

Just as suddenly, the dark army stopped as arrows rained down from the trees. Small movement among the branches that could easily be mistaken as leaves being rustled by the wind but they were elves. Elves clad in browns and greens and so camouflaged that you would lose sight of them if you blinked.

They did not need help. They were winning.

The vision shifted at that thought and she saw dwarves and men of Esgaroth, by the crest of it, fighting back to back. This horde of darkness was far larger than what the elves were dealing with.

The tactical part of Heather's mind recognized the brilliance of the strategy. The sympathetic part of her cried out because if the dwarves and men ever faltered, just for a second, the dark army would push through and the elves would be in the middle of two armies.  _And completely slaughtered_.

Heather came out of her vision with a gasp of suppressed pain. She had been clenching her hands and her nails came out bloody, having caused gouges into her palms.

"Are you alright?" came the stupid question. Heather nearly  _snarled._

"No," she hissed.

Heather did not question  _why_  her visions, which had been positively murky for the past few years, had suddenly cleared to give her that.

"Get me the fastest messenger," she started as someone helped her stand steady. "No, scrap that. Does anywhere in Edoras have messenger owls?"

Heather met Theoden's eyes and saw his knowledge. He knew, in some measure, what she had seen. Instead of despair, like what any lesser man would have felt, she saw his resolve and the steel will that his family line was famous for.

"Prepare for war," Theoden said simply, softly yet it reverberated like a gong in the entire room.

* * *

Hermione was in the middle of arguing with Draco – though she didn't really know about what subject. With his temper so short, he needed people to argue with lest he explode on innocent and unsuspecting by-standers. Still, people noticed and it wore on all of them.

Then she felt the inner wards tingle as a familiar presence crossed them and the argument broke off. Draco had felt him as well and she nearly smiled at the eagerness that crossed his face.

Well, Faramir had always been more Draco's student than hers.

"My lady, my lord," a runner said, panting a little. "That fellow that was my lord's student is here, with his brother."

Hermione had to look down in order not to broadcast to the nosy people – and to Draco, the very large smile of relief she had on her face. It was impossible to repress.

She had not seen Draco smile in  _years_. It was like drinking cool water after being so parched that you could almost taste your own blood. Refreshing and slightly painful.

That bloody dark lord really needed to go soon.

"Lord Hodur," Faramir greeted. "Lady Enid."

The smile on Faramir's face truly had not changed a bit. It was still warm, welcoming and kind. Hed managed to make it feel like a warm blanket covering you.

He had aged but it didn't seem to matter terribly because hed kept all the things that defined him best.

Boromir hovered a bit uncertainly behind his brother.

"You've expanded," he said. "I hardly recognized it when we arrived."

Hermione laughed. "You really should have visited more often," she said. "The shock would have been gradual."

"I don't think so," Boromir insisted. "Gondor's buildings are never this ostentatious."

Draco cut in, mirth lighting up his face. "Your powers of observation seemed to have deteriorated, Lord Boromir. Have you seen what the Halls of the Steward are made of?"

Seeing as it was made of white granite mined straight from the mountains, he had no place to talk about ostentatious.

Hermione bit her lip to stop her laughter.

The hilarity fled when she accidentally brushed against Boromir, and  _nearly vomited_.

Darkness, which she had always felt faintly around people, clung to him and emanated in waves. There was no way Draco could not have seen it.

"Draco," she gasped. There was a tightness to Draco's expression that she had not noticed previously.

"I know," he responded curtly. "There are purifying chambers near the Rising Eagle."

Hermione hoped it would work against the thick, sludge-like taint clinging to the brothers. What in Arda had they been doing that caused such a thing to cling to them? Merlin only knew the effect it had on their minds.

"What is amiss?"Faramir asked sharply.

Hermione looked to Draco. By the tense line of his shoulders, what he was seeing must have been terrible. More terrible than usual.

"I have to pass you both by the Purifying Chambers first," Hermione said, the lie coming out on the spot. It was rather inspired as both brothers didn't know Heather that well to spot the lie, and Boromir hadn't even met her. "Gryffon wants all visitors to pass by the purifying chambers first. It's a bit of a standard protocal nowadays."

There were no protests and the brothers were given a room all for themselves once the guards saw the two founders with them.

The people watched but Hermione didn't care. She had to steady Boromir as he staggered. Faramir went pale and slowed his walk. Everywhere, all the crystals that surrounded the chamber flared an eye-burning white as it sucked up the darkness and changed it to pure energy.

Faramir had to sit but Boromir knelt, heaving up the contents of his stomach. Hermione hurriedly vanished the emission and summoned a wash cloth, wiping away at his face.  _Something_  was coming out of his eyes.

"Oh, Magic of Morgana," she whispered.

"Get him out of here," Draco snapped. "It's gotten hold of his insides. It will tear him apart as it goes out."

Oh Merlin. Oh bugger. They had never had a case this bad.

"Kreacher!" Hermione yelled, breathless and slightly hysterical.

With a  _Pop!_  The house-elf arrived, took one look at Boromir and nodded. In an instant, Boromir was gone, escorted out with Kreachers capable hands.

Faramir was out cold. A healthy flush had taken over his cheeks. Draco leaned against the wall, tired from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

"In magics name," he said hoarsely. "That was insane."

Hermione wanted to laugh but she restrained herself because she had a feeling it would come out sounding a bit crazy.

"You need to hit the cauldrons," she said.

He nodded, for once not arguing against an order. "I need to start inventing something against this."

In unison, they picked up Faramir, hauling an arm over each shoulder.

By all the gods of magic, what had the brothers been doing? She wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

* * *

Luna frowned as she received the reports of the Order.

Her organization seemed to thrive with all the skirmishes happening with the Dark Lord. Membership peaked with citizens from different towns and countries applying. Saldians actually allocated a portion of their income to donate to their cause and no Order member ever had difficulties when passing by Rohan.

Though, while there were still occasions when they really needed funds, Draco had solved that by giving her the Greenhouses. The Order was now receiving a portion of the profits from selling potions.

Mainly, what was making her frown was her sudden urge to go east.

She hadn't had an urge to wander in a while and it made her pout because she thought she'd cured it. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd get these impulses to do things, mainly to dance or to go over the pond to talk to Ginny. These usually gave her something, a bit of chocolate stepped on in the middle of prancing and getting a sparkly hair-tie when visiting Ginny.

In Hogwarts, the urge was to explore. This led to her being bullied. Everything was too interesting and her instincts usually led her somewhere where no one had ever gone before and to suddenly notice her own vanishing shoes was too much of a hassle so she'd gone without.

This….this sudden urge to go east was troubling. She'd always followed her urges because they led to good things but this time, she had to think of other people, like her siblings and her nephew's family. And the others like her assistants. And the Saldians.

The wards would stand without her and Heather but it would be significantly weaker and nothing at all like how it should be when all of them powered it.

Oh, how did the founders defend Hogwarts in its first few decades? She doubted they ever had to deal with a dark lord and its armies, but this was insane.

Though...now that she thought about it…

None of her siblings ever finished their last year of education and she was even missing two years of a witch's standard education. She didn't count the year under the Carrow's. That was torture and brain washing disguised as education.

It really was a wonder that they managed to build Saldia at all.

"You look like you swallowed one of Lord Hodur's experimental potions," Deimos said from the doorway. "The ones that really hurt bad."

Fatherhood had mellowed Deimos, but not by much. He was actually teaching little Mayren how to string people up with just words.

"I don't make a face when I drink Hodur's potions," Luna disagreed. "It would just be rude. I do enjoy telling him how it tastes like. He turns such a lovely shade of green. For a person in his profession, he is extremely squeamish."

Deimos snorted. "And you call me malicious." He stepped into the room and Luna could see the concern shining from his eyes. "Truly, my lady. What is the matter?" he asked.

He had such adorable eyes and he knew it too. He wielded it mercilessly as he looked at her. Luna caved. Really, there was no surprise there.

"I'm getting this really strong craving to travel east," she said. "But with how dark things are, I can't just leave or Saldia will be weakened."

Deimos looked incredulous. "My lady, have you  _seen_  our army?" he asked. "And the Brotherhood that troop through everyday getting supplies from the barracks? Don't even get me started on the Order. Those healers could bring down a troll and still act  _bashful_  about it. It's bloody annoying."

Luna disguised a laugh as a cough. "I take it you speak from experience?" she asked. There was a smile in her voice that she couldn't remove fully.

"It was a completely unnerving thing to see," he muttered. "Some of those healers are smaller than Lady Gryffon."

Luna finally let out a laugh and his eyes snapped to her. "That't not the point," he protested. "If you wish to, you can go on your pilgrimage for a month and nothing would happen."

Oooh! That was so tempting. Luna fairly  _swooned_ at the idea.

"I'll just go ask my siblings," she murmured, feeling a bit ridiculous for hesitating. But the idea of a vacation was something that none of them ever contemplated seriously. There was always something to do – and for workaholic people like her sibling, the very idea of a vacation must have been foreign to them. Vacation and work were two things that were synonymous once you loved what you were working on.

Deimos finally took one look around her office and sighed. It was littered with paperwork that was scattered haphazardly in different piles that teetered and seemed to be on the brink of toppling over.

"I'll just fetch Phobos," he muttered. "This is going to take a while."

From the look of it, the back log went back for  _weeks_. As long as the newspaper nonsense had been going.

Oh, Manwe.

This was going to take a  _really long_  while.

* * *

Heather found herself leaving Rohan against her will.

It was an unpleasant experience, she decided. She supposed no one would find being tied up like a chicken and tossed in a burlap sack pleasant. Being covered while in the aforementioned burlap sack was even worse.

What sealed the deal for her, however, were the whimpering cries she heard in her second day of captivity.

She could deal with being kidnapped from Rohan when it was preparing for war. Theoden had a handle on that.

She could deal with being tied since her magic could untie her willy-nilly.

She could even deal with the rough handling since she'd faced worse with Voldemort.

What she could  _not deal_ with was the whimpering cries of a  _child_.

Bloody bugger it, but this was getting out of hand.

With a deft flick of her wrist, her bonds dissolved and she withdrew from its temporal space pocket the Elder wand.

It took an ingenious use of the severing charm, as well as some  _accio's_  and – in one satisfying moment – a  _bombarda_. Her captors died quickly, they were just goblins and it seemed almost a waste to use magic on them. A good bludgeoning could have worked as well as the next thing – and it would have been such a beautiful stress relief.

Ah, how anti-climatic.

She took a deep breath to steady her emotions and her rioting thoughts. In the same breath, she vanished the goblin corpses and opened the other burlap sack carrying the second kidnapping victim.

And promptly had a bloody buggering  _migraine._

The little brunette girl had Fearghal's eyes. Any doubts on her parentage flew out the window when she glowered at Heather.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Where's my papa? Why am I here?"

The last question recalled Heather as to  _why_  she recognized the girl. Heather remembered playing with her for a moment, teaching her some knife tricks beore blacking out. Presumably, she had been taken then.  _Of course_ the only witness was going to be taken too.

Fearghal was going to murder all goblins, if he didn't murder her first.

Bugger it.

A screech caught her attention. Ah, Hafny. Heather had sent out a pulse of magic to catch her attention and it seemed the intellegent eagle-owl finally caught up.

It was quick work to write a note to the no doubt panicking father. Hafny flew off and Heather turned to the girl who was holding her little booth knife and eyeing her warily.

"What do you say about going on an adventure?" she asked the girl, making her perk up. "My name is Gryffon and I taught your papa how to wield a sword."

If eyes could sparkle in adoration, her eyes would have done it. Heather watched in amusement as all wary thoughts flew out and the little girl  _gushed._  There truly was no other word for it.

"Really?" she exclaimed. "We are? Papa doesn't allow me to. Do you think he won't mind?"

Heather felt her eyebrows climb up.

* * *

**Character Introspection: Teddy Lupin**

When Teddy was old enough, he was often told that he ought to be a good boy, because all good boys got good things.

He lived with his grandmother and he knew she said that just so he would eat his vegetables.

Broccoli, yuck!

When he was ten, he saw a picture of a thin girl with a big smile. She looked like she wanted to laugh at something but was holding back because that would be rude. He asked his Gran, and that's how he learned about hi godmother.

"We never found her," Gran said softly, in that way she had when she was trying not to cry. "All searches led to failure. I looked too, because I wanted to tell her about you."

Teddy was confused. "You mean, she didn't know about me?" he asked.

She nodded. "I looked to tell her. During the war, there was simply no time. And after the war, she just...left."

When Teddy was thirteen and smart enough to understand the books in the Library, he thought back to that conversation and finally understood why his Gran cried.

The methods magic had in searching for somebody was extensive and thorough. For someone not be found, after so many years, only said one thing. She was dead, or had forgotten her own name - and the latter wasn't even likely.

He asked the Headmaster and received a better response, simply because he knew her as a friend.

"Heather?" the Headmaster repeated. "She wasn't exactly happy in Hogwarts. She loved this place, yeah, but she hated gossip and slander, and she received that by the bucket load. But when she was happy, she could really be happy. Like an overpowered cheering charm."

And as much as Teddy enjoyed hearing about her, he'd prefer not to. If he listened, he'd start wishing for what he couldn't have and that would make him angry and pissed off.

"What do you think happened to her?" he asked instead.

He regretted asking the Headmaster that because he looked really  _tired_  and  _sad_.

"The last I saw of Heather," he whispered. "She was pale and tired and she looked like she wanted to die. I don't know what to think, Mr. Lupin."

Gran always told him to be optimistic. But Heather was such a fleeting wish that never came true. So after twenty-five years, when the Potter vaults was finally declared dormant and the owner dead, Teddy Lupin released the old dreams he had.

Teddy finally buried his hope of seeing his godmother.

* * *

DELETED SCENES:

**Mayren and the Incident with the paint**

Draco didn't even need to open his eyes anymore, or use his gift.

"Don't even  _think_  about it," he said loudly.

The footsteps stopped and there was a loud sigh.

"How do you know?" Mayren demanded. "How do you always know?"

He smirked. "Dear little minx, you always ask the simple questions. The better question is, why do I always know it's you?" It was unsaid that he read minds or something even more sinister.

The little girl paled a little and then fled, leaving behind the bucket of paint that she would have upended over his head.

Meiran, watching the entire thing behind a bookshelf, sighed. "Every single time," she muttered. "I tell her no, don't do it. And she does it anyway. The most contrary child in Middle-Earth."

Draco laughed. "And you wonder how she's related to you?" he remarked.


	40. The Puzzle Pieces

It was almost impossible not to know that something was wrong.

Guiomer could see the way Gandalf's bushy eyebrows were wrinkled and how some of the Brotherhood made half-aborted movements. At the center of it all seemed to be his son.

"Pater," Aedan cried.

Guiomer's heart thudded at the boy's tone. It was heartfelt relief and gratitude all in one word. It was a plea for reassurance and he wondered what caused his brave, courageous son to be frightened.

"Aedan," he called back. Moments later, found him with an armful of sweaty, dirty boy.

While he is grateful for the cuddle and the hug, his son wasn't one for hugs unless it's his mother or grandmother. Baffled, he looked to the wizard and saw Gandalf looking tired and a bit sad.

But this was his son, and he knew Aedan would talk when he meant to. Forcing him would just cause trouble. So he just said, "Welcome home, little warrior."

Aedan squeezed him tighter and it's no trouble to haul him up his shoulders. Eleven years old or not, Aedan was a bit smaller than all other children no matter how his mother insisted in feeding him.

Cailyn tugged at his shoulders insistently and he passed his precious cargo gently, making a beeline straight for the wizard. It was easy, what with his pointed hat.

"Aedan?" he asked.

The wizard seemed to  _droop_  with the question. Some of the Brotherhood still in the vicinity looked worried, shooting him glances while giving their nods of respect.

Guiomer wanted to throttle them all.

He didn't need concern; he just wanted to know what made his son cry!

"He had a troubling vision," Gandalf answered. "It came to him unbidden, such a shocking sight of death."

In Magic's name!

Guiomer felt his heart seize up, remembering the first time he had such a vision and his mother's panicked worry, of how she had tugged him gently into her arms as he trembled like a leaf. He had been eighteen then but still taller than his mother, yet in that moment, she had seemed strong and immovable, as constant as sunshine and as encompassing as the ocean.

"I suppose I'll be visiting Lord Elrond then," he muttered. "I hope Cailyn will forgive me."

With effort, he hauled his mind from Aedan and focused on  _why_  this motley crew came to their city for help in the first place.

"Did you find the creature?" he asked instead.

Gandalf nodded. "I left him with Legolas of Greenwood. Hopefully, the sight of growing things will cure Gollums mind."

Guiomer didn't share that hope. From what he had touched of the creature's mind, it was half-eaten away with insanity. The other half was dormant, only waking up in the face of abject cruelty. Whatever the creature used to be, it had a penchant for sadistic violence. Perhaps holding the One Ring for so long had awakened it?

None of this he said out loud. "Then your venture was successful then?" he said instead.

Gandalf had a look of immense sadness on his old face.

"As successful as can be," he answered. "Now I have to go to Bree, but before that, I have to ask the White Wizards council."

The moment he said those words, Guiomer was assaulted by images of cages and terror, of Gandalf injured and broken at the White Wizards feet.

Through practice and experience, Guiomer didn't even bat an eyelash. It was also through practice and experience that Guiomer knew that Gandalf would not believe him. While Gandalf was wise, he did not believe that Saruman could ever betray him.

So Guiomer kept his mouth shut and let the wizard go on his way despite the million other things Guiomer wanted to say to him. A small hand clutched at his sleeve and Guiomer turned to find his family looking at him with some concern.

"Are you alright?" Cailyn asked, struggling a bit to contain a wriggling Ciaran. Automatically, Guiomer reached over and tucked the boy by his elbow. He stopped wriggling and settled down.

"Gandalf will be betrayed by the Head of the White Council," he told her grimly. "And if I had told him, he would not have believed me."

Her eyes were sympathetic. "You could not have done anything about the Grey wizard's beliefs. Come love, you will take me home and explain to me why our other son had to be sent him crying."

Guiomer's eyebrows climbed up in surprise. What a careful turn of words, she must have been getting lessons from Aunt Enid.

.

* * *

.

Luna wandered.

It wasn't something very troubling but there really was a difference from wandering to being lost.

Not that Luna was lost…well she was, in the sense that she only knew that she was a bit further north than she usually traveled but this was what she called  _wandering_. Something was pulling her towards a certain direction and she faithfully followed.

Luna had never really been lost in all her life. There was always something guiding her, innate and inborn.

That was why she was not surprised when, after several days of walking by herself and filling up her extended satchel with herbs, she saw a campfire.

It was a nice sort of campfire too, with decent wood stock and the scent of something being smoked from it. Luna then counted five men and five horses. There was also a pony hitched on the side.

A pony?  _How curious._

Without hesitation, Luna walked forward soundlessly and greeted them, taking in the one black cloak of the Brotherhood, one blue cloak from her Order and the three Dunedain beside them.

More than half of them rose up, almost unsheathing weapons with how startled they were.

When the Master Healer jumped forward and gave a cry of joy, they all un-tensed, and Luna watched it from the corner of her eyes, a bit fascinated. How carefully these men moved, she thought.

"My lady," the Master Healer said, happiness shining in his eyes. "I have not seen you in a few years."

Luna gave him her full attention and found a slow smile rising up her face. "Alasdair!" she remarked. "How you have grown! Where have you been wandering these past few years?"

They chatted for a while about medicinal techniques and travel experiences. Both of them only remembered their manners at the very pointed cough by their feet.

Luna looked down and saw one of the oddest creatures in existence. She felt like sha had seen him somewhere before, but saying that would be rude and she'd been rude enough so she just smiled and said, "Pardon me for forgetting my manners, but Alasdair had been one of my best students."

Instead of a look of disbelief like Luna expected due to her youthful looks, he just nodded. "Ah, one of those then."

Luna's smile widened. "I am Eilys of Saldia. Pleased to meet you, Mr…"

He bowed. "My name is Bilbo Baggins, at your service," he said.

Luna felt her insides melt a little. He was so well-mannered that she was reminded a little of her father. And she also finally remembered where she had seen him before. It was in Imladris, with an ailing Heather beside her.

"And you as well," Luna responded. "Excuse me, but what sort of creature are you?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "I am a hobbit, my lady. The one your people call Halfling," he answered. He sounded very exasperated.

Luna laughed and allowed herself to be lead towards the campfire.

She shared her food with them and tried not to be too amused when they accepted it eagerly. Cold rations was  _nothing_  compared to food properly cooked by a campfire.

Conversations flowed easily and Luna was introduced to Alledan, the Brotherhood member and one of last seasons recruits to come from Saldia. Haraldar, Saradrim and Penethrin were greeted with enthusiasm once Luna could remember them from Guiomer's wedding.

In all of that, Bilbo was a quiet but entertaining companion, managing to make them all roar with laughter with just a word.

"I must do this more often," she remarked. "It is better than reading dry and boring reports."

Alesdair was curious but respectful. Luna wanted to give him a hug just for the look on his face. He was  _adorable_.

"Why are you away from the capital?" he asked. "Not to be impertinent or anything, my lady, but you rarely leave the city."

So people had noticed. Luna wondered, but then she realized that all four of them were so careful at keeping the wards fed and the country defended that they never really stopped to see how it might look like to other people.

Her siblings had Wandering Days, for Merlin's sake. The label was a misnomer since it had not merely been days but  _years._  For people who traveled and explored fro so long, to suddenly settle down was surprising.  _Of course_  someone would have gotten suspicious.

Luna managed not show all that in her face. She just shrugged. "I felt the need to leave the city. I do wonder why though, and it does worry me since Gryffon is out of Saldia as well."

Alledan looked concerned. "My lady is not in Saldia?" he asked. He sounded quite worried.

Bilbo piped up. "Why is it so terrible?"

One of the Dunedain, Saradrim, answered. "It is as bad as the Thain of the Shire leaving the Shire, Master Baggins."

Luna didn't understand the reference but Bilbo gave out a little noise of comprehension.

"It's nothing really immediate though," Luna continued. "And Guiomer has seen nothing yet, but that does not really reassure me. All of our gifts are clouded. There is a darkness in Middle-earth."

It was a small consolation and their faces were somber at her announcement. Everybody already felt the darkness, but to have it confirmed as something else.

They all readied for the night, the watch determined via straws, but they excluded Luna and Bilbo and the latter felt rather put-out.

"I am old," Bilbo muttered to Luna mutinously. "Not broken. I can stay on watch as well as the next hobbit."

Luna shot him an amused glance. "You can argue yourself blue and they'd just pat you on the head and tell you to go to bed."

Bilbo gave in with a huff. "It's worse than traveling with  _dwarves_ , I tell you."

She could not really remember how but Luna accidentally brushed against the hobbit and felt her insides seize up.

"Excuse me," Luna said firmly, hands on Bilbo's shoulders.

The hobbit was about to complain about the indignity of it, but he happened to glance at her face and subsided.

"What is it?" he asked with some worry.

"I'm a healer, Mr. Baggins," Luna said absently as she crouched beside him and rummaged through her satchel. Distantly, she was aware that she was worrying him but the other part of her ignored that and thought of the darkness and the  _utter exhaustion_ that seized her when she touched him. She wondered how he could remain standing when he felt that all the time. And she thought that tired, mournful sighing she heard was her imagination. It was actually Bilbo's soul, stuttering and tired.

"Am I ill?" Bilbo asked, prodding her further when it became obvious that she would not answer.

Luna gave him a long  _look_ , debating with herself. In the end, she just shrugged and did a Heather, throwing caution to the cliffs and Merlin be damned the consequences.

"I can hear the souls of people, Mr. Baggins," she said. "And yours is quite tired. So I will try and clear you of your exhaustion."

The small potion bottle finally emerged, clenched securely in Luna's hands. Bilbo backed away a few steps, apprehensive at the greenish sludge in the vial but Luna held him firm and no help came from the others, as they were busy preparing for night watch by setting traps.

Gently, yet with severe hands, Luna aligned her forehead with the hobbits' and gave him a bit of her magic. It was not enough to adopt him or hurt him but just enough to stoke the fire in his soul back to life.

Bilbo coughed and spluttered as sudden warmth spread all over his body. Luna released him and smiled, holding out the vial. Bilbo looked at her smile, at the vial and knew that he had no other option. Quickly, and with a bracing smile, Bilbo downed it and shuddered, immediately regretting his decision.

"Don't you feel better?" Luna asked, patting his shoulder. "You'll be releasing black urine for three days or so. That was just a cleansing agent."

With a Cheshire-like smile, Luna drifted off and Bilbo was left gaping at her back.

After a moment, he frowned. "Healers," he muttered under his breath. "They're all the same no matter the race."

.

* * *

.

Faramir awoke slowly and in increments.

First, he was aware of his fingers, and it was covered in cloth –  _bandages_  his mind supplied. Then he was aware of his lungs and the…strange fact that he could breathe deeply and easily. His eyelids fluttered in surprise and he finally opened his eyes.

He didn't expect seeing white light, because Saldia's Hospital really was considerate of its patients but he didn't expect to see a dozen or so stones glowing by his bedposts, strung by strings and tinkling once in a while.

"You're awake!" Lady Enid cried out as she walked in his room carrying papers. She dropped them by the foot of his bed in a rush and touched his forehead gingerly.

"I'm not having a fever," he said, pushing himself up slowly. "But I remember my brother collapsing. Is he alright?"

Lady Enid rolled her eyes. "He's faring better than you. We got him out in time and made him drink a potion instead. You had it extracted from you externally," she said. She gave one last tap on his head, brushing his fair hair away from his face. "How do you feel?"

Faramir sighed. "Better. I can…I don't know, I can just move better," he said. "Can I see him?"

Lady Enid thrust a cup of water at him and told him to ' _stay put'_  before storming out, stopping only to pick up the papers she dropped and then continuing onwards to the door.

Faramir fell back on the bed with a huff.

.

* * *

.

"He's not warm," Hermione reported.

Draco had the look of a cat that ate the cream and hid the evidence under the carpet.

"Good," he said. "My second potion worked."

Years ago, Hermione would have been upset at him. Draco was more pleased about her acceptance than his experimental potions working and he had to exercise effort not to show that in his face.

"Why did Luna wander now anyway?" Hermione continued, whining just for the sake of it. Draco knew that was because when it came to healing, the twins were nearly as good as Luna, if not a bit more focused on potions than her.

"She does whatever she wants," he answered absently, tallying up the costs and price of the new potions he had slaved over a cauldron for nearly twelve hours.

Sometimes, Draco wondered why, among all things, he had chosen potions when there were half a dozen other careers he could have chosen, each of them easier than the last and not requiring sleep-deprivation at all.

Then he remembered the dour man who was his godfather dropping by the Malfoy Manor, brewing a potion for his mothers cold and he had been  _entranced_. Why did this make a headache go away? What does ginseng do to a cold?

He had  _so many_  questions and it really was no wonder that he and Granger had butted heads in Hogwarts. Her head worked nearly the same way his does.

However potions entranced him, it also gave him mixed feelings. He remembered a potions class that was weighed down on everybody, the tension thick enough to be cleaved by a butter knife.

Speaking of Granger…

She was looking at him with concern, her expressive eyes peering up, eyebrows crinkled and a small frown turning down her lips.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

Her face morphed to surprise. Well, he hadn't really been  _nice_  for a while. He also hadn't removed his blindfold for a while, zealously guarding his family from the unseen threat.

Unseen that is, except with his gifted eyes.

"I really am," he repeated, reaching for the cloth tied around his wrist with distaste. "Let's check on Boromir. His vomiting was still black two hours ago."

He tied it back and suppressed his cringe at the blacks and greys his sight was reduced to. Ahead of him, the bright soul of Granger, self-adopted sister, was bright enough to drive away the grabbing tendrils of darkness.

Boromir's soul was looking brighter than ever and any lingering traces of darkness was leeching away and being changed by the magic carved into the crystals.

Some of that darkness was being purged by his potions and it certainly had been a challenge to create something from ordinary materials that could latch on to intangible and soul-altering magic and make it physical enough to be removed by normal body functions.

"How do you feel, Boromir?" Granger was asking, voice being muffled. She was no doubt covering her mouth to mute the volume in consideration for any possible headaches.

And here was the best part of wearing blindfolds. Draco rolled his eyes and nobody whacked him on the head for it.

"Better, my lady," Boromir answered. "Lighter. It feels like I had been constant pain before and never noticed until it was removed."

How very apt.

Ah, from the flares of Granger's soul, she was annoyed at him. Belatedly, Draco reminded himself to  _smile_. He was in a sickroom and he had to act soothing.

Drat it, this was the reason why he never became a healer. According to Lovegood, his bedside manner was atrocious.

"You ingested two of my healing brews," Draco said, prompted by the elbow lodged in his ribs. "It cleared your body of all the filth it accumulated. However you acquired it, I have no idea."

Boromir's soul flared the purple of indignation, mixed with the red of fury. Draco allowed another roll of his eyes. It's not like anybody would see anyway.

"Just know this Boromir," he continued. "Whatever… _contaminated_  you didn't enter you by normal means. Your very  _soul_  was weighted down by it. Being slowly altered. You, or someone very near you has been playing with black magic."

Ah, Draco mused with satisfaction. There was the shock he had been aiming for.

Just to improve his temper, he swept out and left Granger behind, rubbing his temples and contemplating on sleeping for all eternity. These sudden projects would be the death of him.

Before the door closed, he heard her say, "I know, he's always like that, terribly rude and with absolutely no care for the possible political repercussions of his words."

Draco smirked and it grew wider as people who met him in the corridors looked at his face and dove out of the way.

Though really, Draco did care about what he said, he wasn't actually saying things like that to  _Denethor_ , was he?

.

* * *

.

About an hour after Hermione removed the brothers from the Hospital and checked them in the Rising Eagle, she received a messenger saying that Faramir needed to see her.

Hermione's eyebrows crinkled up. "Now, what on earth have I forgotten?" she muttered to herself.

But her schedule was clear – had been clear ever since their Constitution was established and she really had nothing to do aside from writing up possible projects, exchanging books with Elladan and answering the occasional question.

So with a sigh, Hermione left the building and walked to meet Faramir.

She mused on his message, the wording in particular.  _Need._  Such a strong word. And then, like lightning, it struck her, her sharp mind working a mile a minute.

 _Why_  did the brothers come to Saldia? Given who they were, they really didn't have the luxury of leaving the country at all, let alone at the same time. So it wasn't leisure but business. It always was.

From what she had garnered when Faramir was her student, he wasn't in his father's favor, Boromir was. What they had taught Faramir, however, was enough for him to manage a country and by the rumors being said among the merchants, he was making enough changes in Gondor that his father would want to keep an eye on him. And anyway, if Denethor wanted something done, he'd ask the favored one to do it.

This only answered which of the brothers this concerned. It didn't – still didn't answer the other why. Why Saldia? After what Heather had done, wrecking Denethor's punishment for his youngest and Draco's continuous embargoes on the trade for Gondor, Denethor should be suspicious of Saldia – or outright hate it. So no, their destination wasn't Saldia. This was only the pit stop.

That left four other options: Rivendell, the Shire, the Kingdoms of the Dwarf-lords and the Ruins of Arnor.

If she cross-referenced it, there really was only one answer.

This proved true when Faramir, after seeing her, immediately said, "My father dreamed of a prophecy. He's sending my brother to ask for Lord Elrond's help in deciphering it. What do you think my lady?"

"Oh, Faramir," she sighed. "It's a frightfully long journey for your brother to take for the sake of a dream."

An echo of a dream pressed on her, of a teal-haired man and the old grief on his face, and Hermione allowed herself to add, "But however vague the message, the Valar probably sent it for a reason. I myself received such a message a few days ago."

"Your contradicting yourself, my lady," Faramir pointed out. "And how do you know it was a Valar-sent dream?"

"You just know, Faramir. When they give you a dream, they make sure you know it to be theirs." At his skeptical look, Hermione continued. "I know you don't trust your father, but you have to know that he loves your brother enough to move the world for him. He would never allow Boromir to come to harm."

Faramir's scowl was ferocious and frightening in its intensity. "No, I really don't," he answered. "You don't understand, my lady. My father loves my brother,but he loves the  _idea_  of him. He sees the perfect son, one who is brilliant and capable in  _everything_. I see my brother with clear eyes.  _You taught me that._  I see his flaws, his abilities. I know that he's not capable of everything."

He…actually had a point.

The other part of her brain that never really forgot anything reminded her of Guiomer telling her in passing that he was going to ask for Elrond's help with Aedan's gift. And if things got bad, she could force Draco to go. He needed to have a Holiday. He was acting positively strange earlier.

"Either Guiomer or Hodur are going to Elrond for council as well," was all she said. "I will make sure he will be cared for."

That was the only time the tense lines of Faramir's shoulders relaxed.

.

* * *

.

Heather was having the most fun she had  _in years._

Fearghal's daughter, Fearwyn, was an eager student and Heather received flashbacks of the time when she still taught people. She had always loved teaching be it about war tactics or about the constitution. Teaching Faramir about trekking in the wild with very little supplies was another thing. It also reminded her of teaching a very young Guiomer about the joy of being in the wild.

She had forgotten how…liberating it was to teach.

"Clear your area," Heather instructed. "Layer your firewood but don't forget, you have to allow your fire some air or it would die."

Fearwyn was young, but she more than made up for it with enthusiasm.

"Where  _are_  we going, my lady?" she asked after Heather checked the ground for tracks.

Heather spared her a smile. "I'm looking for some of the Brotherhood. Usually, none of their routes go so far south but with the established branch in Edoras, routes have included Edoras as well."

"Support?" the girl demanded and Heather remembered that this was a commanders daughter and probably learning about war tactics and countermeasures since she could talk.

"Yes, for support," she confirmed because there really was no denying it. "I had a vision in Edoras. The elves need help."

The stories of the elves had always amused Heather. They were always told as perfect and very beautiful beings, but having hosted Legolas for a month taught Heather than they acted as human as the rest of Middle-earth.

The awe in Fearwyn's face made her smirk, thinking about the elvish prince.

"Why elves, my lady?" Fearywn asked. "There are other settlements to attack."

Easier was what she meant. The elves, having  _centuries_  of experience were very hard opponents. Ambushes and surprised were the only things that could down an elf, aside from overwhelming them with numbers. That needed good generals and a  _very large army_.

Humans and dwarrows though, were easier to kill. For one, they needed food and rest. Elves could do without either for days.

"The elves are a special hatred of Melkor," she answered. "They are always defiant, always watchful. He made the goblins and orcs as a perversion of the beauty of Eru's first children."

Fearwyn's eyebrows were scrunched up. "So his judgement is bi…bi…tainted with anger and he cannot give clear orders?" she looked to Heather for confirmation and Heather nodded.

"Yes. After the elves, he hates the Dunedain as well. So he will try and conquer Rohan and Gondor. When Numenor still existed, a group of them docked by the Grey Havens and founded Gondor and Rohan," she expounded.

"You know a lot, my lady."

Heather shook her head. "No, my dear. I just exchange letters with elves frequently. That is also one of the reasons why Melkor hates them so. Some atrocities could be dulled and altered with age, maybe even forgotten. But the elves have long memories. So he cannot alter history to suit his purposes as long as they exist."

"I thought history was written by the victors?" the girl asked, a proof that Hermione's teachings were echoing even through Rohan."

"Oh yes," she agreed. "But the elves are always honest. They usually give first-hand accounts as well if you ask them nicely. And even if that was true, we cannot exactly ask Sauron, can we?"

The girl laughed.

They eventually found signs of orcs and fighting, the distinctive slashes telling her that this was her Brotherhood fighting. Most of them were slit at the throat or plunged into the heart. Her methods were instant death and it extended to what she taught her people.

"Stay close to me," she told Fearwyn before jumping into the fray.

It went slower. The world always slowed down when she wielded a sword. Slower and then faster as her body struggled to catch up with her mind.

Distantly, she counted the Brothers she passed by, all five of them. That wouldn't do. Her lessons focused on teamwork, even as she grilled them on being able to fight alone. But a warrior alone was still vulnerable. She jumped over goblins, beheading a few as she went, going to the unpaired brother.

"Thanks," he said reflexively and his eyes went wide when he saw her hair.

"Focus, brother! Behind you!" she barked. She glanced around and saw Fearwyn sulking by feet, headed towards her direction. A warg was closing in on her back.

Quick as lightning, along with the motion of slashing down, Heather sent out three knives.

And then time resumed again and Heather breathed.

"Thank Morgana," she muttered. "Boys, are you alright?"

The Brotherhood saw her properly then, recognized her and looked awed. "My lady," one of them stammered out.

"I have a bone to pick with you," she muttered. "Why are you only five? I taught you better than that!"

Most of them looked mulish. "My partner died a week ago, my lady."

Oh…

Heather gave in to impulse and hugged him. "Oh, my dear. You should have told me."

The man was stiff in her arms but eventually relaxed by increments.

"Who leads?" she asked after she stepped back and allowed the man to discreetly wipe away tears.

A pair raised their hands. Heather nodded. "I want some support. We're headed to the Greenwood to help some elves."

"We usually meet the others to exchange some news by the river, my lady," one of them volunteered.

"How long is that?" she asked.

"A fortnight, my lady," they answered.

A fortnights wait, and then another two months or so to travel to the Greenwood.

That was alright. Her vision wasn't urgent. She just knew that the army was amassed. It was a warning to gather help. She wasn't meant to be there unless the attack struck but to ambush the enemy from behind.

Now, what was she forgetting…?

A sharp tug at her dirt-stained trousers made her look down and smile.

"Everyone, this is Fearwyn, Fearghal's daughter," she announced. "We'll be staying with you for a while. I hope we're not too much of a bother."

.

* * *

.

**Character Introspection: Neville Longbottom**

For as long as he could remember, he heard about his father and how Neville was  _absolutely_  nothing like him. This would have been alright, but this was said in such a venomous manner that any child instinctively flinched at and Neville did so. He flinched and hid and wanted the world not to see him anymore.

This worked in two ways, because he could no longer see the world clearly. He was timid and shy, the very picture of a failure.

If he had managed it, he would have become good friends with Heather Potter. Her cringing manner and soft words were the very mirror of his attitude.

But they were children then and Hermione Granger's patience was not infinite. She could only manage to coax out one frightened and wary child and it was Heather she focused her time on. Neville fell into the way side, not exactly neglected or abandoned but not having friends either. He hovered on the edges of cliques and occasionally got conversations. But more often than was healthy, Neville kept his head down and tried not to make enemies.

So he watched and listened and he slowly opened his mind. He understood that not everybody had time for him, that he actually had to go look for friends. So he looked, first going around in his own House and when that proved useless, went to the other Houses, starting with Hufflepuff.

In hindsight, he was – perhaps – one of the first people to reach out to other houses, especially since his venture in looking for a friend didn't end in the other two Houses either. He met Slytherin's, Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's.

Fifth year shattered his world further and he knew that if he allowed it, he would be nothing more than another pawn in a war. So when Hermione Granger went around with information about a Defense Group, he was more than willing. His friends from other houses came too and when the others tried to ban the small number of Slytherin's he'd actually befriended, Neville's gentle temper boiled over and he'd unleashed a tongue lashing on all of them that would have made his Gran proud if she heard it.

Heather just smiled at him, eyes a bit sad but very proud.

Fifth year was a good and a bad year. He learned, no longer timid or a doormat but still a bit shy. Fifth year was also when his parents' tormentors broke out of prison and he experienced, for the first time in his life, anger and hatred so strong that he nearly cleared the Common Room after he read the paper.

And then the war happened and Neville found people  _looking_  to him when Heather wasn't in Hogwarts. Expectations, just like his relatives, except these expectations were higher, heavier and made his spine straighten out as he bore the responsibility proudly. He didn't know he could do that.

And Heather returned with Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger and she met his eyes in that shadowed tunnel.

It wasn't a friendly meeting, nor was it exactly hostile. It was a war meeting between two leaders and both of them knew it.

The shy, stuttering Heather from first year was gone, though a bit of her was still left in the war-hardened girl. She was hammered by hardship and torture, just like him, and what came out was a proud woman with eyes of steel.

"Will you be alright?" he asked then.

The hardened look left her face and the vulnerable girl shone through. "I'll be fine, Neville. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

That was the last time he spoke to her, and it haunted him because she looked like she a woman on a mission. A suicide mission.

Then the final battle happened between Heather and Voldemort and when it was over, she looked  _inches_  from death too. Pale, bruised and bleeding.

Neville couldn't spare her a thought because Gran was in front of him, clutching his face and smothering him with kisses.  _Wasn't_ that a shock, his stoic Gran giving him such affection in public.

Things then finally pulled together and that's when they found that Heather had vanished.

While he was shocked, he wasn't exactly  _surprised_. There was a difference to that word. He knew she wanted to rest from war and by the looks of it, people  _wanted_ her. She didn't belong to herself anymore but to the world. However vaguely he knew Heather, he knew she didn't want that. She was a private person, best happy when surrounded by friends and laughing their heads off.

"It's good of you to find happiness, Heather," he muttered when he read the news. "But couldn't you have invited the rest of us too?"

.

* * *

.

DELETED SCENE:

Scene 1

**Heather's Letter to Fearghal**

_Fearghal,  
_

_I have been kidnapped by goblins and it seems that your daughter came for the ride too._

_Don't worry, we're fine. Goblins are dead. You're daughter glares like you._

_We're going on an adventure. Will be back next year._

_~Gryffon~_

_._

* * *

_._

Scene 2:

**Ciaran's first word**

Guiomer and Cailyn rarely argued, and when they did, it usually was epic.

Aedan knew when to scurry away when they started and he ducked behind Fenny and went to hide out in his grandmothers house or office while he waited for the storm to break.

Ciaran wasn't so lucky. Genius he might have been but he couldn't really walk.

"You bloody arse!" Cailyn was yelling. Ciaran listened in his cot.

"I'm an arse now?" Guiomer yelled back.

The tense silence was broken by Ciaran laughing a little and saying, "Arse!"

Guiomer's mouth dropped open. "Did he just..."

.

* * *

.

Scene 3:

**How Luna and Fenny met**

There was a fox, spitting at her.

Luna was so dumbfounded that she just stared for a moment.

The soul she had heard crying out for help was intelligent, angry and very noble. It's eyes burned with anger as it stared at her. It didn't like to be stared at.

"What?" she cried, kneeling down at the snow and only sparing a passing thought to the cold seeping through her breeches.

The animal hunkered down, baring its teeth at her but its soul didn't even ring of fear. It rang of defiance and it made her feel a bit wobbly to feel such indignation directed at her.

"I am not going to hurt you," she reassured him. "I'm just going to see if I can help you."

Not that the fox could do much to hurt her, the cold had done much to weaken it, along with its injuries.

Carefully, Luna brushed away the red snow and assessed the extent of the damage, to see what she could do to help. Thankfully, the fox only whimpered and growled. It couldn't do more than that and its soul ran with distress.

Luna felt her heart stir with pity and she smiled when the fox finally fell unconscious after a particularly violent wrench. Efficiently, she cleared the snow and went to work, sewing up the fox's wounds and bandaging it with the spare bandages that she had.

It was tiring work and her location wasn't ideal but she persevered and worked through the night.

She was rewarded when the fox's eyes opened and a pink tongue went out and licked her fingers.

"Fenny," Luna whispered, even as her heart throbbed with love for the fox. "I'll name you Fenny."

The newly named Fenny nuzzled Luna's hands and went back to sleep.


End file.
